


Legend Makers

by Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)



Series: The Family and the Heart [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bilbo Goes on Trial for Theft of Arkenstone, Disabled Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, multiple disabled characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-10-28 22:10:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17795669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose
Summary: "Blessed are the legend-makers with their rhymeof things not found within recorded time." - J.R.R. Tolkien, MythopoeiaBilbo returns to Erebor, with his Heart beating and his Family close at hand.But will he get to stay?





	1. Erebor in Sight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyRedFeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRedFeather/gifts).



> Everyone listed should get spotlight time.
> 
> Yes that means...things.
> 
> No, this is not finished. But I hope to have it not take over five years this time.

Rivendell went over much better this time around.

Bofur's wagon had been repaired and his two ponies were as eager to leave as Thorin was.

He may have been talked around to be cordial to Elrond, but that didn't mean he had to _like_ it.

* * *

The entry into Mirkwood had been interesting, Elves riding out to greet them and guide them safely through the paths.

Legolas was happy to see Bilbo and Frodo again and warmed to Thorin and the rest of the Company when it was spelled out that they had no idea where Bilbo was before he left Mirkwood.

Thorin would always cherish, however, the way Thranduil had been tugged down to eye level by Bilbo, even if it was mostly in private (in that it was away from the Court and most of the Company) to demand an _explanation_ about the Corpse Crawling.

With how Thranduil looked a little miffed at being tugged down, but also slightly squeamish over how Bilbo _phrased_ the entire incident, is what has Thorin agreeing not to mention it outside of themselves.

Mostly because it was something that had to be _witnessed_ to truly appreciate it.

* * *

Elrohir stared at Erebor as it rose out of the mist that curled around its foot, the snow and ice gleaming off its height that pierced the sky, a lone sentinel against the Shadow that lay in the East.

He remembered staring at it for hours, till the night had stolen over the sky and the lack of moon had made it merely a silhouette, but here he stood once again, looking at it in the dawn’s stretching light.

"I have missed it," Thorin said quietly from behind Elrohir and it takes everything he has not to repeat the sentiment.

"It is beautiful," Elrohir said instead as he turned to focus on Thorin.

It didn't hurt as much anymore.

"It…do you think Bilbo will like it?"

Elrohir didn't laugh, but it was a near thing and helped ease the ache, somewhat, in his chest for another difference.

Thorin was Heart Taken, while Thráin had been Craft Taken.

_"It is strange," Durin remarked quietly and Elrohir tilted his head to show he was listening._

_It was quiet, for once, in the audience chamber, a break between one and another. "I have seen souls, now that I look back. And I think…I think the Elves have Soul Mates, not Heart Mates."_

_"Oh?"_

_"You Love Once and only once, do you not?"_

_Elrohir gave a quiet huff at that. "Yes."_

_Durin couldn't continue with his thought as another petitioner came forward, and later, Elrohir could not get him to continue the thought._

"—hir!"

Elrohir blinked a couple of times and focused on whoever was calling his name, not entirely surprised to find it was Elladan. "Thorin came to get me. He said you stopped responding," Elladan said and Elrohir blinked before he looked toward Erebor again.

"I got lost in thought," Elrohir murmured.

Elladan reached up to touch his forehead and Elrohir scowled slightly at him. "I'm not Fading," he grumbled.

"Are you sure?"

"I think I know what the Fading looks like as well as you do," Elrohir said pointedly and Elladan flushed slightly at the, somewhat too sharp, reminder.

"Sorry," Elrohir said quietly and ran his hand over his face.

It was just…the knowledge he was going to be going _back_. He was going to see what had changed, what hadn't. See the scores of lifetimes that had brought Erebor to life, the damage done by a dragon…all of it. All of it piled together and on top of each other, crashing and falling together and around.

He was probably going to get a great deal more lost in thought as the journey continued.

"Well, I forgive you. Mostly because you had a point," Elladan said and Elrohir nodded as he ran his hand, carefully, over his hair and subtly touching the beads under his hair to calm himself.

"You're not that subtle," Elladan said and Elrohir stepped on his foot.

They promptly devolved into digging heels and elbows into feet and sides until it was broken apart by _Dwalin_ , who made a very pointed remark on how they were behaving worse than the actual child in their group.

The 'actual child' protested being considered the 'actual child' until his uncle assured him it was a compliment.

"I'll get you back later," Elrohir promised in Sindarin and Elladan snorted.

"Promises, promises."

"Don't make me treat you like the lads," Dwalin threatened.

"Hey!" Kíli protested from where he was massaging his right leg, wincing whenever he went too far down and his hand closed around nothing.

He was obviously suffering phantom pains but saying nothing, likely hoping to just get them moving.

"We're a week out," Elrohir said and blinked when the entire Company with them turned to stare.

He realized that he should not have known that and gave a shrug. "Or thereabouts," he offered, wondering if he was really slipping.

Or now that his shame was being confronted, in a way, that he was letting his guard down.

He preferred to be hostile, push the Dwarrows away before they could get close, learn it. But he had forgotten how much he _missed_ them. Their culture and mountains and the ringing of music through the air.

Rivendell had nothing and he had laughed when he heard about what Bofur had done at the dinner table, having been away with Elladan on a 'hunting' trip when they had arrived in Rivendell.

What was written about him? How much had they struck out after Thráin had thrown him from Erebor?

Now he was curious.

"How are the Libraries?"

He ignored the looks, though smiled when Ori huffed.

"Good enough. The records have held, but a few were damaged," Ori grumbled.

"They were damaged from before Smaug," Thorin said, sounding like he was repeating himself.

"So we should _fix them_ ," Ori insisted and Elrohir could guess what was damaged.

"A tragedy," he said quietly, his heart twisting and squeezing as some nausea crawled up his throat and his eyes burned.

Mahal _curse it_ , he could not sit down and start crying _here_ , when he was not even at Erebor's foot yet!

"We should get ready to start moving," Óin said, and Elrohir could see the small signs of a Dwarf that wanted to return to their own Heart's side.

Fíli helped Kíli to stand and began to lead him toward the 'borrowed' tinker wagon, Bofur with his own. Nori was still riding with Elrohir, but had kept his fingers to himself and away from Elrohir's hair, which spoke well of him _keeping them_.

Elladan mounted up first, while Elrohir helped pack up the camp properly, Thorin urging Bilbo to join Fíli and Kíli in the 'borrowed' wagon.

Fíli had ducked back out to drive the wagon itself while Frodo had eagerly mounted up onto Elf-Owl's back, the pony surprising everyone with how sturdy he was despite his rather…delicate looks.

Once everything was either in wagons or packed on ponies, Elrohir mounted up himself and they continued on to Erebor.

* * *

> _Dear Balin,_
> 
> _We are one week out._
> 
> _Thorin_


	2. Check-In on the Roads and Erebor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist.

Asfaloth snorted as Glorfindel slowed to a stop, Bifur now sitting in front of him instead of riding behind him, clutching to his waist.

It was easier this way anyway, and it allowed Bifur to have full range when in a fight from horseback with his boar spear.

"I'm just saying that this seems like an odd way to get to Mordor," Glorfindel remarked, even as he followed Bifur's pointed directions.

He was pretty sure Bifur had just insulted him.

"Look, insulting me in your Dwarven secret language is amusing and all, but I'm still saying this seems like a _very_ roundabout way to get where we're going," Glorfindel said as he guided Asfaloth through the pass to Rohan. "Truly, very roundabout."

Bifur noticeably rolled his eyes and just pointed more…pointedly with his boar spear.

"I didn't say I wouldn't follow your directions, I'm just saying that it seems odd. How do you even know which way to go?"

The question had Bifur turn around to give him a flat look.

"Right. I have no idea what you're saying," Glorfindel agreed and Bifur turned back around.

"I really hope we get there without dying," Glorfindel muttered and Bifur just shrugged.

Glorfindel sighed heavily, but Asfaloth continued on, picking up speed as he did so. "Noro lim, Asfaloth," Glorfindel said and the stallion began to gallop, Bifur holding on tight as the One Ring hung from a mithril chain around his neck.

* * *

Bilbo stared up at the towering mountain before them. "She looks so much bigger," Bilbo whispered, staring up at how the mountain seemed to be almost challenging the sky itself, demanding it to try to strike her down.

"Really?" Frodo asked skeptically.

"Really," Bilbo answered as he stared.

They hadn't reached Dale yet, just skirted the outskirts of the very obviously just rebuilt Lake-Town, still basically wood and…wood.

Still very _flammable_ upon the water.

He was sitting on the stoop of the Tinker wagon with Frodo, both Fíli and Kíli within, the pair not taking well to travel on their return trip as they had on their trip to the Shire.

Nori seemed to be trying to bug Elrohir about something. Trying being the operative word here, as Elladan was stopping him.

"You know…" Nori said.

Elladan let out a scandalized, wordless, shout and Elrohir noticeably blinked out of some deep thought. "Did he proposition you?" Elrohir asked seriously and that got _Nori_ being stared at by the members of the Company present.

"He got the drop on me," Nori said and eyed Dwalin with an equally appreciative eye. "I don't, as it says, discriminate. It's all just a nice—"

He was cut off by a yelp as Dori smacked him upside the head. "There are _children_ present!" Dori hissed as Frodo stared at them.

"I know about how little Faunts are born," Frodo grumbled.

"In the way of how you know foals are born," Bilbo argued gently and wasn't overly surprised when Thorin arrived to ruffle Frodo's hair.

Frodo bat at his hand, obviously more from habit over really wanting Thorin to stop.

"They still should not talk about such things in front of you. It is adult talk, not talk to be had around young ears," Thorin intoned, a warning and threat all in one.

Bilbo tensed slightly, but no one seemed to call him on it.

He was…fine. It was okay and good, and he'd be fine.

Bilbo startled as Thorin carefully sat down next to him and shifted to pull his coat so he could wrap them both in it. "I…may have Thrór's map," Bilbo mumbled.

"I put it in your pack for a _reason_ , Bilbo," Thorin answered and Bilbo flushed brilliantly as Thorin rested his head against Bilbo's.

"Uncle Bilbo, should I go hit Nori with my broom?"

"No, Frodo, no hitting _any_ Dwarrows with any brooms."

Frodo huffed and pouted a little, but didn't try to push it, just cuddling against Bilbo's side.

They stayed like that till it got too chilly and they retired inside, Thorin and Bilbo falling asleep on a bottom bunk together, Bilbo tucked against his side.

* * *

Balin finished organizing and penning out the last of the announcements of when the trial was to be held in Erebor. It was fortunate that they would have time. All the way through the Month of the Alexandrite and the Days of Marble Sculpting specifically.

It would certainly put a damper on the festivities and he sighed heavily.

The tale of the Company, the Bravery of the Burglar, had circulated around Erebor constantly.

Balin may have had a _small_ hand in it, but it would protect Bilbo. Thorin had mentioned that they would need to put Bilbo in the guest quarters for permanently injured warriors with a child, and to put two Elves, one a former Ambassador between Rivendell and Khazad-dûm, right next to him.

Balin could work with that. There was one particular set made for a Lord of Dale about a decade after the founding of Erebor that would work perfectly, in fact.

He made out the proper notes to have them aired, and furniture put in, before he copied it, put his Seal to it, then Dís's since he had written permission to use her Seal regarding certain functions (such as approval of setting up rooms for Bilbo and those coming with him as guests within Erebor) and sent them off to each person they should go to.

With everything finalized he couldn't help but start to worry.

What if they had to send Bilbo back?

Ravens would only do so much, and Thorin was a good King. He would stay with his Kingdom, as those who had been Heart Taken by another and could not be with them had done before and would do once more.

Not every King was as lucky as Durin the First, who married his Heartmate.

Balin sighed heavily and then stared at the requests regarding the Libraries, especially those that focused on the founding of Erebor, and also looking into Thráin the First's secret library that was said to reside 'beneath the Path of Knowledge' which they thought meant one of the Libraries.

Balin, however, had no idea if that was truly what it meant, and was hesitant to have Dwarrows who were needed elsewhere from their jobs on a _hunch_ regarding _where_ Thráin had hidden any secret knowledge.

Or anything from Khazad-dûm.

Balin suddenly understood why they were salivating to find the secret cache of information.

If anything from Khazad-dûm had been pulled out before its fall…

Balin sighed but still rejected it.

They had _time_ here. They didn't have to go searching for something under The Path of Knowledge. Not till everything was finished being fixed.

And Ori got to start fixing the books and tablets, especially those from the founding apparently.

Balin had known they had been damaged well before Smaug.

He sighed heavily and focused on the next part as Dís walked in.

"Alright, where are the things I need to do?" she grumbled and he chuckled.

"At least Thorin doesn't grumble," Balin scolded lightly as she sat down before the pile Balin pushed toward her carefully.

He wasn't overly surprised when she pulled out a pair of platinum glasses to read.

Balin had his own perched on his nose. "How does he read this?" Dís asked cheerfully.

"By squinting and giving himself more headaches than he already gets," Balin answered.

"Not even Dwalin?"

"No one's convinced him yet."

"Of course not. Stubborn arse."

Balin chuckled and sighed as the raven swooped in.

"How does he write you letters?" Dís asked.

"Carefully," Balin answered and took the letter from the raven.

> _Balin,_
> 
> _Bilbo is having bad nightmares. Could you send someone to meet us who he'll trust regarding the safety of the Company that stayed behind?_
> 
> _Few that they were._
> 
> _Possibly Dís considering the boys left without telling anyone._
> 
> _Might do him good as well._
> 
> _Thorin_

Balin shifted his glasses. "And in large letters," he added.

"Dís, how do you feel about going to see your sons early? They're two days out, you could meet them at Dale, I believe," Balin said and Dís raised an eyebrow.

"Bilbo is having nightmares and Thorin thinks that someone should go down and it would be a comfort to him," Balin explained and Dís nodded.

"Anything to get away from the paperwork. And yelling at my sons early for scaring me is also a lovely bonus," she answered. "I'll head out tomorrow with a few fast ponies and a couple of guards."

"Thank you. Send Bilbo my greetings, please?"

"Of course, Balin."


	3. Into Erebor and Into Trouble

Thorin looked up as he heard hoofbeats and stood up, his breath silvery in the dawn and smiled when he saw Dís riding up, followed by a guard and…

"Bombur?" Thorin greeted as he stepped down carefully off the stoop where he was waiting for Bilbo to fully awaken, old and odd aches flaring up from travel, and not enough rest, and the sun wasn't helping his headache.

Bombur smiled and dismounted, already heading for Bofur's wagon.

"Dís," Thorin greeted as his sister dismounted and rushed up to hug him.

"Thorin!" she greeted warmly.

"You get my silly boys?" she asked.

"Yes. As good as when they left you," Thorin answered.

"I knew I could trust you with them," Dís said and Thorin felt something uncurl within him at that.

"Always," she whispered and Thorin smiled as he hugged her tightly.

Dís sniffed and then pulled back. "Now, where are my idiot sons?" she asked and she heard a yelp.

She turned and her gaze narrowed in on the door of the wagon Thorin had stood up from. She could hear something else opening up and she shifted, moving around to storm toward the front of the wagon just as Fíli came stumbling through the opening that lead to the bench.

He yelped when he saw Dís and there was a shout from within.

"Every Dwarf for himself!" Kíli responded as Dís hauled Fíli down and began to drag him back around, only to see that Thorin had him.

There was also who could only be Bilbo standing there, eyebrows raised and leaning heavily on a cane while an _adorable_ little black-haired child who looked like he could be Thorin's copy was scowling at Kíli in a very non-threatening manner, arms crossed.

"By Mahal, he's _adorable_ ," Dís promptly exclaimed in Khuzdul as she looked back up at Bilbo, and she blinked.

"Both of them!" she squealed, still in Khuzdul.

She thought she heard a strangled laugh, as both Bilbo and the adorable little child stared at her in confusion while Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Dís, meet Bilbo and his nephew and ward, Frodo," Thorin introduced in a weary tone while Fíli and Kíli tried to escape from Thorin and Dís.

They weren't being very successful.

"Pleased to meet you," Bilbo greeted warmly.

He held his hand out to her and Dís accepted it.

Frodo waved and then glared at Fíli and Kíli. "You woke up Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said.

"I woke up when Thorin moved," Bilbo argued and Dís smirked at Thorin.

"Big brother, are you being _impudent?"_ Dís asked teasingly in Khuzdul and Thorin flushed, and there was _definitely_ a choked laugh at that.

Dís looked around slightly, trying to see who was laughing, but there were too many close enough to be.

"No," Thorin grumbled.

"Well, if you say so," Dís said with a small sniff and began to pull Fíli over to where Kíli was, taking him from Thorin.

"Thank you, big brother. Excuse me while I go have a _discussion_ with my sons about what behaviour is and isn't appropriate," Dís said and began to drag her sons off for a stern talking to.

* * *

Bombur walked into the wagon he once shared with Bifur and Bofur and stepped inside.

"What happened?" Bombur asked the moment the door closed behind him.

He wasn't overly surprised when Bofur startled upward, looking around and then huffing when he saw Bombur.

"What what happened?" he mumbled as he sat up, tugging his hat onto his head, still mostly undressed.

"With Bifur."

Bofur sighed softly and shook his head. "Rode off with an Elf to destroy the One Ring, which Bilbo had, and wasn't corrupted by," Bofur answered.

Bombur blinked at that. "Oh," he said and sighed. "I'll ask Bilbo for vegetarian dishes."

Bofur stared at him.

"For when he comes back. You know he's really only liked chicken and fish meat since the axe to the head. Best to plan a celebratory feast he can enjoy."

"If he comes back," Bofur said quietly.

"He'll come back," Bombur insisted and Bofur picked the carving up to turn it around and stare at the eagle.

He didn't respond to Bombur's insistence, just sighed. "Get out. I need to get dressed and everything," he grumbled, shoving at Bombur, who sighed and gave in, walking out.

The brief opening of the door had him hearing who could only be Dís ripping into the boys, and then it was closed.

Bofur sighed and slumped back against the wall at the head of his bed. He clutched to the eagle and stared at it with tired eyes. "If he comes back," he whispered to the eagle.

* * *

Bilbo was sitting on the stoop of the wagon again, Frodo following after Dís like a duckling after their mother duck, a big wide grin on his face as she showed him how to use his broom as a more efficient weapon.

He should probably protest, but couldn't find it in him to do so after seeing how she had shouted at her sons before promptly hugging them tightly and pressing her forehead against theirs as she reined in the urge to give in and cry.

Bilbo could see that, no matter how far she was from them.

"A sight, isn't it?" Elrohir asked softly as he sat down.

"With us today?" Bilbo answered gently, his gaze flicking over to where Bofur was leaving his own wagon, walking over to where Bombur was making them breakfast.

"Mostly," Elrohir agreed softly and Bilbo followed his gaze to where it was locked on Erebor's peak.

"Erebor is the mountain, you know, not the Kingdom," Elrohir whispered. "Dwarrows, they'll not correct it, but Erebor is the mountain. The one that rises above. They have a Khuzdul, Dwarvish, don't tell them I told you the name of the language, name of course. I can't tell it to you. I can't explain that."

"You can't explain your knowledge to me either."

"You? Who have books on ancient Dwarvish kingdoms? Surely you can guess that I did not leave on Durin's death," Elrohir answered softly and Bilbo felt his face heat as he blushed.

He had had those books long before meeting Thorin and the Company as well.

"Not much on Erebor," Bilbo mumbled. "And nothing was written by Dwarrows. Enough to want to strangle Elves sometimes though."

"Though you still like them," Elrohir teased softly and Bilbo sighed.

"It was…a culture not my own, really. Men I knew, more or less. I learned easily. Elvish culture seemed…I don't know, it was silly," Bilbo said quietly, embarrassed and pretending not to hear Nori climbing the wagon to eavesdrop on them.

"Like it fit you better?" Elrohir asked quietly.

"The…intellectual, gathering of knowledge, part. Though upon meeting Ori, I've discovered that Dwarrows are very about that. Unbiasedly about that, in fact," Bilbo explained and then frowned. "Which is why I am a little surprised to hear about the damage to the library that predates Smaug."

Elrohir hummed at that. "Me too," he agreed softly, but there was something in the back of his voice that told Bilbo he wasn't not entirely.

"So, was knowing Cirth really that helpful?" Bilbo asked.

"Immensely. There are, of course, purely Dwarvish words in there, but I could more or less understand the story being told," Elorhir answered and Bilbo nodded.

"Wish I knew Cirth. Would I be allowed to learn that from Dwarrows, Nori?" Bilbo answered and Elrohir chuckled as Nori huffed, but joined them from the roof, settling on the stoop with them.

"Why are you both taken?" Nori asked seriously and Bilbo flushed.

"I never did much…romping, as it were, even when I wasn't taken," Bilbo huffed while Elrohir gave an idle shrug instead.

"Well, I always knew you to be prudish," Nori teased.

"Not prudish, but romping stopped being fun when people just romped with me because I was rich," Bilbo answered quietly with a sigh.

Nori made a disgusted noise at that and Elrohir merely nodded in agreement.

Bilbo made a noise when Thorin appeared and picked him up, which was likely slightly unwise. "Thorin!" Bilbo squeaked out, clutching onto _really broad_ shoulders, and that was a bad thought.

Very bad thought.

There was also a small bite of cold at the tips of his ears, even as Thorin carefully sat back down with him on his lap on the stoop. "They were blind," Thorin said and Bilbo flushed before he buried his face against his chest.

"Thorin," Bilbo mumbled. "It was over a decade ago."

Thorin hummed lowly at that and settled more as Nori snickered.

Elrohir openly laughed. "Get used to it Bilbo," Elrohir said. "Dwarrows who love with all their Heart don't really take it well when they learn the one they love has been disparaged in any way."

He chuckled a little, sounding…sorrowful, even as he stood. "They _really_ don't," he added wistfully.

"What did your Dwarf do?" Bilbo asked and Elrohir looked at him with a wide smile.

"Glared at them till they shut up. It was very effective," he laughed out and then walked away, Elladan breaking away from where he had been hiding on the other side of the wagon to follow after Elrohir.

"I am surprised he has held on beyond the passing of his own Heart. Though considering their mother, maybe not," Thorin said quietly and Bilbo thought about how Elrohir _loves_ Durin.

Durin who was reborn, supposedly, over and over.

"I suppose so," Bilbo agreed quietly as he rested against Thorin more, letting his eyes slip closed as he heard Dís praise Frodo for an effective maneuver.

* * *

They started moving a little later than usual, but Bilbo felt up to riding, and Myrtle seemed to be in agreement with that, easily keeping up with everyone. Dís spent a good chunk of the ride next to Bilbo, right up until Elrohir suddenly broke away, Nori riding behind him once more.

"Elf!" Dís called.

Elrohir, however, didn't seem to be listening, and Elladan was quick to follow him. Dís let out a sharp sound and began to ride after them. "Going through Dale isn't good enough now?" Dís demanded and Bilbo frowned before he began to follow them as well.

"Bilbo!" Thorin called as he rode off after them.

Dwalin cursed and quickly followed after Thorin.

Elrohir, however, seemed to be past listening to the shouting and his mare seemed to be…following something with her rider.

Soon they reached a river that flowed out from the foot of Erebor, and when Helcheth's hooves struck the ground three feet from the river, a light flashed and suddenly a bridge, a wide bridge, rose out of the water.

Helcheth snorted as she cantered fearlessly over it and they came to a slow stop following it. Elrohir seemed almost amazed and he turned in a circle, staring at the bridge while Dís paused before she followed him over as well.

"How did you see that?" she demanded.

"Maybe get everyone over before it sinks back down?" Elrohir offered and that got everyone moving, while Bilbo had the distinct feeling it wasn't _Durin_ causing his memory wanderings.

Heart-Son.

One of the beads meant he was a Heart-Father but said his Heart-Son bead had been lost.

He knew Erebor.

Erebor had been founded by one of Thorin's ancestors, obviously, but what if the Heart-Son had _taken_ the bead?

Bilbo chewed on his bottom lip and they were all over, just as the bridge began to pull back and sink into the water.

"Again, how did you see that?" Dís demanded.

"It's written in Cirth?" Elrohir answered, pointing upward.

Dís blinked and every Dwarrow, along with Elladan, looked up, and all of them gave a long, "Oh!"

Elrohir rolled his eyes. "What does it say?" he asked heavily.

"Bridge for those in deep need," Elladan read out. "Roughly? There are Dwarf words there, that I don't know, but the ones I know that are from, technically, Quenya. Quenya was written exclusively in Cirth and—"

He trailed off when he realized he was being stared at.

"What?" he asked in a defensive tone and Elrohir snickered.

"They weren't expecting that," Elrohir said softly as he looked back up at Erebor.

He smiled up at it, and then back down. "I figured it meant you had to be at a run to get it to come up, but it would only stay up for as long as it would take the average company of Dwarrows to get across," Elrohir said with a shrug.

"A retreat bridge," Thorin said and looked at it. "You had to race toward it. Though the fact it reacted to horse hooves is odd."

Elrohir gave a nod of his head. "Horses used to live in Mirk—Greenwood. And they were steadfast allies once."

Thorin made a face but nodded a little in agreement. Dís said something in Khuzdul and Thorin nodded, answering.

"This shaved a little bit off our time. An hour, at least," Thorin said in Westron and Bilbo blinked as Elrohir grinned a little.

They then picked up speed, riding along the wide foot of Erebor. "Does this mean we'll miss Dale?" Bilbo asked, hiding the spike of pain that went up his leg at the fast pace they were going at.

"We can visit on another day," Thorin reassured as they continued to ride.

Bilbo was about to respond when Myrtle slowed to a stop, snorting quietly.

"Bilbo?" Bofur called, pulling his horse to a stop, along with the wagon.

Frodo did a circle back around, Elf-Owl coming to a stop with a snort. "Oh. Uncle Bilbo's in pain," Frodo tattled and Bilbo sighed as he ran his hand over his face.

"Just a little," he said, even as he heard someone riding over, followed by that same someone dismounting.

"We'll travel just as quickly if you rest your leg," Thorin reassured and Bilbo swung his leg over to dismount, only to let out a strangled sound of surprise when Thorin just lifted him up.

Bilbo stared up at him with wide eyes, feeling his cheeks heat, even as cold crept up his neck and over his forehead.

Thorin smiled at him, though it shifted into a confused frown. "Bilbo?"

"I'm fine," Bilbo whispered out and Thorin nodded slowly before he headed toward the wagon pulled by Blackberry and one of the new ponies.

"I'll wake you at Erebor," Thorin promised once he got Bilbo settled and Bilbo nodded, relaxing against the bed as Thorin left.

Bilbo inhaled shakily and tried to calm down the heat as well as warm up the cold.

* * *

Elrohir dropped back once he found them the retreat bridge, and instead let his gaze sweep over Erebor. He laughed, internally, at the Path of Knowledge circled up the outside of Erebor, from what was like the gates to the Kingdom all the way up to the peak of Erebor itself, much like the Path of Knowledge that had once run the length of the Misty Mountains, connecting the Western Gate to the Eastern on the outside, allowing the scouts and warriors to learn of the paths of Men and Elves alike, and gave them an understanding of their surrounding lands.

It was a bit of a joke of Durin's, really. He mused that it was so the Dwarrows did not forget that there was a world outside of the Mountains as well, or they would delve deep into the stone to never return.

So, The Path of Knowledge also became known as The Path Idiots Were Sent to Patrol or Path of Punishment Duty.

It had been one of the first things crafted into Erebor's slopes, and he was sure if he looked to the left…and there was the goat stables, still, half way up Erebor and unnoticeable unless one was looking for it or if they rode out of the stables on their goats.

"How did you find that?" Nori grumbled.

"Find what, Nori?" Elrohir asked.

"The bridge and don't give 'written in Cirth', you have to look for it to find it," Nori grumbled.

"Oh, if I would tell," Elrohir teased as Helcheth snorted, tossing her head slightly, almost picking up speed before reminding herself not to.

Despite that same feeling likely thrumming through her.

Helcheth had also grown used to Dwarrows. To the ringing songs through the Mountains, the rolling secret language, the stables of stone that were comfortable year-round that she had shared willingly with goats. While this was not Khazad-dûm, this had still been the Kingdom the boy she had carried and helped teach to ride horseback had founded.

She had been equally missing Dwarrows for as long as Elrohir had, and missed here, almost as much as she had missed Khazad-dûm with Elrohir.

Even with part of it tainted from the rescue.

As they drew to the gates that towered above, Elrohir inhaled sharply.

"Such a sight," Nori agreed, but Elrohir just _knew them_.

They had been rebuilt, yes, but they were unchanged. There it was, the rebuilt Dwarrows that stood guard on either side, representing Durin and Náin, though Durin was partially obscured by the helmet he hated but wore to battle all the same.

Between them came the wall that jutted forward like the bow of a ship, almost, and the gate stretching until it was almost melded into the stone, depicting Thráin and the three Dwarrows that had followed him.

Thráin on the right with Hámundur, his childhood friend, and one frequently watched by Elrohir when Náin had been unable to watch them for one reason or another. He had constantly sticky hands as a child.

On the left were the brothers Loni and Moti.

It was these four that had essentially founded Erebor.

Elrohir came to a stop as Thorin went to wake Bilbo so he could appreciate the rebuilt Erebor, but his eyes flicked about.

It was…exactly the same.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it was the same.

"It is," Elrohir agreed, though for vastly different reasons than Nori had said it.

Thorin was bringing Bilbo out now, helping him to settle on the bench next to Bombur and he could vaguely hear Bilbo's awed tone.

It was only once Bilbo was settled that Thorin got back on his pony and gave the signal.

It was enough.

Horns began to blow and Helcheth didn't flinch or draw back, though a few ponies did, omitting Myrtle and the black ponies that reminded Elrohir of draft horses with their feathering.

The gates began to swing open then and Elrohir, for a moment, stopped breathing, because the _inside_ was the same as well.

_"I still think you should be on the gate," Thráin grumbled._

_"An Elf, on the Gate to a Khazâd kingdom? No, no, that wouldn't do, little star," Elrohir responded simply._

_"You helped us! You should be recognized!" Thráin said._

_"Does it mean that much to you?"_

_"Yes!"_

_"Very well. I'll draw something for you to carve in and so I am always recognized, how is that?"_

_"Perfectly Heart-Father."_

"—hir!" Nori called, shaking him slightly.

"Sorry, I was distracted," Elrohir said as his gaze traced the sharp lines of the Sigil that Durin had tried to give him, have recognized as his own House, of a sort, until Elrohir told him he didn't need it.

It was of a horse, not that it looked much like that, all sharp lines and shapes put together first as a horse's head staring straight ahead, and then a mane being added so it 'flared' out around the neck would otherwise be sloping down. All in sharp angles, which made it look a little less like a horse.

To Elrohir anyway, and while Dwarrows were often very poetic, Durin hadn't been able to resist alluding to Elrohir's own name in Sindarin, which meant horse-rider essentially.

Helcheth came with him, which had only added to it.

Slowly, they rode in and Elrohir couldn't resist looking back as the doors swung shut, the design Durin had made for him staring back.

"Welcome, to Erebor," Thorin greeted warmly as Elrohir looked back forward to the grand entryway that seemed to…have gold as the floor?

"Why is the entry walkway _gold?"_ Elrohir asked in confusion and was somewhat confused when he got laughter from Nori over that.

* * *

Glorfindel cursed as he shifted so he could pull a sword free, tying the pointless reins tighter so they wouldn't slip before he dropped them. Asfaloth picked up speed as the Wargs and their Riders began to follow after them.

"Really?" Glorfindel snarled as Bifur cursed them out as Glorfindel hissed.

"Keep going, Asfaloth! Let Bifur not fall!" Glorfindel called in Sindarin and he timed it before he did a controlled fall off of Asfaloth's back without unhorsing Bifur.

He was on his feet, and grinned sharply. "Come to the blades of the Golden Flower," he ordered in Quenya and did not hesitate to bring the blades to the Orcs and their Wargs.

The black blood came out, staining across the grass, Glorfindel calling up Magic he hadn't called up in Ages, his blades starting to glow with it, letting him slice through the bodies like heat through ice. The Orcs were screaming and clutching at their eyes, the blades as bright sunlight, and he continued to twist, not hesitating or stopping, lost in the battle around him.

He spun when he heard a growl, his swords coming up, and should have been too late, except a boar spear buried itself through the skull of the Warg, collapsing.

Glorfindel panted and slowly looked toward it, only to find Asfaloth trotting forward, Bifur on his back.

Bifur growled at him in Khuzdul and Glorfindel huffed a sigh. "Really?" he asked Asfaloth, who snorted and tossed his head, as if in agreement with Bifur.

He probably was.

Bifur said something and Glorfindel sighed. "Let's burn these and then move on," he said quietly and Bifur dismounted, yanking his boar spear out of the Warg before he began to help.

They had a nice pyre going when Glorfindel heard the horns of the Riders of the Mark.

He cursed, violently, in Quenya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I couldn't resist the allusion to the second Hobbit movie with the walkway thing.
> 
> Thorin is still working on getting that up and repaved with something that makes sense, like marble.


	4. Windows with Honey Glow, A Forest of Shadows

Bilbo had been surprised by how…enthusiastically he had been greeted by Balin and Glóin before Balin had apologized and began to drag Thorin away. Thorin had managed to apologize to Bilbo and promise to see him tomorrow before he was pulled away.

Dís had then shooed the rest off before she began to lead their four guests up to where a wide lift waited while the others promised to take care of the ponies and bring up the luggage as Dís got them settled.

Up they went to the guest section of Erebor on its outskirts before she guided them toward a set of doors that had Elrohir making a soft sound of amusement.

"What?" Bilbo asked softly.

"Later," Elrohir promised softly as he kept a hand on Bilbo's shoulder as they walked and Dís opened the first door.

"These are for your Elven guests," Dís explained and Bilbo let out a soft gasp of awe as he saw the windows that filled the room with a warm honey glow.

The windows seemed to be thin sheets of stone instead of glass and even the lamps were had shades in the same type, though they held a different colour to them. "Alabaster," Dís explained softly as she touched at the window carefully.

"That's amazing," Bilbo said quietly.

"This is a receiving room, and the connecting door between the two receiving rooms is here," Dís explained, walking over to where the door was, practically hidden in the stone. "Just say 'friend'. In Sindarin. A common password in rooms for Elvish allies. These were originally created for allies who had guards and children, or child."

"That weren't Dwarrows?" Elladan asked.

"Usually, though the Dwarves of the Southern Mountains sometimes prefer them," Dís answered and Elrohir nodded a little.

Bilbo looked around and noticed that all of the furniture looked rather new as Frodo walked over to where Dís had indicated the doorway was. "Mellon," Frodo said and grinned when the door swung in toward him slowly.

"They swing in toward the speaker, as a warning," Dís said with a smile and Frodo rushed into the more populated receiving room. "There's a kitchen with an attached dining room as well."

Bilbo limped into the next room and smiled as he looked at the honey glow the filled this room as well, noticing that the lampshades here were more green than white from the other room.

"And across there are your bedrooms. There were no safe rooms that had a balcony, but if you continue up to the end of this hallway, there is one. It has a lot of hardy plants that look surprisingly pretty."

Bilbo smiled at her at that and nodded as he stepped through, looking around. "Did Thorin get those planted?" Bilbo asked.

"Only half of them," Dís answered and Bilbo chuckled a little at that as he looked around before he carefully sat down on one of the chairs as Frodo wandered around, Elrohir getting a couple of footrests so Bilbo could have his legs up.

"Now all I need is tea," Bilbo grumbled. "Regular tea."

Frodo was doing a little circuit, trotting between the bedrooms and kitchen.

He promptly hopped up to balance on the arm of Bilbo's chair. "Can I have the left bedroom?"

"Left-facing, left-leaving?"

"Left-facing."

"Of course," Bilbo answered and pressed a kiss to Frodo's forehead.

He grinned and hopped down to rush into the room, Bilbo tilting his head enough to watch him run away, before he focused back forward, then blinked to see Elladan frowning as he was looking around.

"Um, has anyone seen Elrohir?" he asked.

Dís, who had been smiling fondly at Frodo's back, startled and began to look around. "Where has that Elf gotten to now?" she demanded as she stood up and huffed as she stomped out of the room.

* * *

Elrohir hadn't been able to resist, not after Dís had mentioned the balcony with the flowers.

He had left the rooms of honey glow, split between spring and winter to frame the autumn panes, and he travelled up the hall, his fingers trailing old familiar walls.

This hadn't been touched by Smaug and only minimally by time.

He thought he saw sparks of light trail up the walls, but when he looked up he hadn't seen any signs of it, so he decided it was a trick of his mind. He instead wandered until he reached the end of the hallway and ran his fingers over the gypsum doors that opened under the slightest push before he walked out onto the Garden Balcony.

The wind swept up from the plains and up the heights, harsher and more biting without the numerous trees to hide and protect them now, but somehow the garden had more or less survived. He walked through it, looking at the benches that were set between where trees had replaced the hedges that had died.

Elrohir reached out to touch the leaves and flowers of spring, not surprised when they weathered his touch as they weathered the wind and cold. He hummed softly as he walked, taking in the changes of the balcony by time and he paused before he knelt down, letting out a surprised laugh when he saw the Mithril Flowers were still there, clinging to life through time and Dragon Fire.

_"How?" Elrohir asked as Thráin smiled proudly at him._

_"Grandfather gave them to you. I've made sure to carry the seeds on me since…"_

_Thráin trailed off and Elrohir pressed his forehead to his Heart-Son's._

_"Thank you, my Heart-Son. It warms my heart to see part of Khazad-dûm here."_

He stood up and turned away from it, wandering to the edge of the balcony and chuckled at the curl of the Path of Knowledge that wrapped around the balcony as it wound up Erebor, tempting Elrohir to hop over the railing and follow it up to the peak.

"Elf!" Dís shouted and Elrohir turned to smile at her.

He thought he saw her briefly pause, but she stormed forward all the same. "You said the garden was this way," he said brightly and she huffed before she grabbed him by his tunic and dragged him back inside.

"You remind me of Sólrun," Elrohir said before he could stop it and wasn't surprised when Dís came to a sharp stop.

"Durin the Sixth's wife?" Dís asked.

"Yes," he finally answered after a long moment. "I was Ambassador between Rivendell and Khazad-dûm. Till it fell."

Twice. He saw Durin's Bane _twice_. The shadow and flame seared into his worst nightmares.

He also had a scar along his skull from the first time as Durin's guards had knocked him out.

On standing orders.

_"Stop trying to die on me," Durin growled as Elrohir lay in his bed, recovering from the stab through the ribs._

_"I'm surviving for you," Elrohir responded softly._

_It was the closest Elrohir got to saying it, if only because they didn't speak of their feelings and he felt his eyes widen slightly when Durin's calloused hand cradled his cheek. A thumb ran across his cheekbone. "Keep doing that," Durin intoned softly._

"—hir!" Elladan shouted and Elrohir blinked sharply, focusing back on the present.

"Yes?" he asked quietly.

"You wandered again," Elladan said.

"I haven't thought about some things for almost a thousand years," he said quietly. "Somewhat. A little. I mean, I'm rounding up, but that's not really good to not getting caught up."

"No, it is not," Dís agreed and Elrohir blinked as he looked back at her and he almost startled when she wrapped a hand around his elbow.

"Come, let's get you settled. Maybe see about getting some special healers for you and Bilbo. And probably Frodo."

Elrohir blinked and nodded. "Yes, Princess Dís."

She snorted and tossed her head slightly as she drew him back into Erebor.

* * *

Bifur felt Glorfindel sigh as he and Glorfindel rode after the Riders of the Mark, following them to one of the long stables used by them. "Do you understand Sindarin?" Glorfindel whispered to Bifur in Sindarin.

There was a time when he spoke more languages than he had fingers, but now he could only speak in Khuzdul, and he nodded.

He felt Glorfindel slump slightly against his back.

"Good. Keep an eye out and slap Asfaloth's neck so he knows to run when you see the moment to break away," Glorfindel whispered and lifted his head away.

Bifur relaxed against his chest, letting his eyes dart around as he waited for an opening. A slight relaxing of the guard that would allow them to escape.

Bifur knew that it wasn't wise to allow Men to come with them, so understood why they would need to run. "What brings the Riders here?" Glorfindel asked.

"We heard the Orcs. We were not expecting to see an Elf and a Dwarf. Together," the Captain remarked.

"I promised to look at caves if he promised to look at trees," Glorfindel answered and Bifur laughed at that little dance of lies.

"I thought the Dwarves and Elves hated each other," the Captain said and Glorfindel subtly touched Bifur's elbow as he lifted his hand slightly, which had Bifur waiting.

"A mutual distrust that we like to act on over and over again. We need to work against it," Glorfindel answered.

"If you're sure," the Rider Captain responded and Glorfindel dropped his hand away and Bifur felt him give a nod.

"We're sure," Glorfindel answered just as Bifur smacked Asfaloth's shoulder.

Asfaloth took off, leaping forward and there were shouts.

Bifur leaned forward and he felt Glorfindel following him, but he could also hear someone catching up to them. Bifur looked under his arm and his eyes widened to see a white horse streaking after them, slowly gaining. Bifur let out a warning, sharp, noise and Glorfindel began to urge Asfaloth faster.

It didn't seem to matter to the Rider of the Mark following them.

Glorfindel cursed in Sindarin and the other language he had taunted the Orcs with before he guided Asfaloth toward a very dark forest.

Asfaloth almost seemed to balk before he charged forward with renewed vigour.

The other horse also balked but charged in and Glorfindel cursed again as the dove into the trees that rung with ominous shadows.

* * *

Asfaloth came to a sliding stop and turned with a loud squeal, turning on his hind legs to face the Rider of the Mark who had followed him.

The white horse and rider that had followed them slide to their own stop, neither horses heaving heavily.

Asfaloth let out a squeal of challenge and reared up slightly against the other stallion, who snorted sharply and squealed back.

"Mearas," Glorfindel whispered as Asfaloth snorted sharply.

"Why did you run?" the Captain demanded.

"Because, those Orcs and Wargs are chasing us," Glorfindel answered.

"Why?"

"Because, Prince of the Riddermark, we carry a great Evil," Glorfindel answered and Bifur's grip tightened on his boar spear.

"A threat to Gondor?" the Prince answered.

"Their greatest," Glorfindel answered.

"Then Rohan will answer. And, as I just proved, Snowmane can hold his own," he answered.

Glorfindel sighed. "Fine. I am Glorfindel, this is Bifur. And you, Prince of the Riddermark?"

"Théoden son of Thengel," he answered with a bow of his head.

"Wonderful. Let's figure out how to camp in Fangorn," Glorfindel answered as Asfaloth gave a sharp snort, but turned and began to lead the way, Théoden following after them on Snowmane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon timeline, what Canon timeline?


	5. Travel, Days, and Plans

Glorfindel, Bifur, and Théoden had come to a stop in a clearing and Glorfindel made little 'give' motions with his hand. "My turn," Glorfindel said and Bifur grumbled before he pulled a necklace off and held it over to Glorfindel.

Glorfindel shuddered in a way more like being stabbed through the abdomen than of revulsion as he took the chain and tugged it over his head. He was quick to tuck it out of sight and inhaled sharply as Asfaloth became stone below him before nickering quietly.

"We should rest here for the night," Glorfindel said quietly. "It is far enough away from the sleeping trees that we shouldn't wake them or their guardians."

"Guardians?" Théoden asked.

"The Ents. I'd rather not earn their wrath," Glorfindel answered.

Bifur raised an eyebrow. "When Ents go to war, the only thing that stops them is death. And it takes a great deal to kill an Ent," Glorfindel answered softly. "No axes, no fire. Now, hush, to rest."

"What about you?" Théoden asked.

"Bifur will take first watch," Glorfindel answered. "I'll take the rest. I only need four hours of rest."

Théoden frowned. "What about me?"

"You can take first watch tomorrow and I'll take the rest."

Bifur gave a nod of agreement.

Glorfindel untacked Asfaloth and passed the saddle over to Bifur, who promptly set it up like a pillow while Glorfindel spread the blanket out over the ground to dry. Théoden followed their example, sighing when Snowmane and Asfaloth seemed to be sizing each other up.

They were both of higher intelligence, it gleamed in their eyes, equal to any sentient creature that walked Arda. Equal to Dwarves and Men and Elves.

They snorted sharply before noticeably deciding to stay closer to their riders and otherwise ignore each other.

Glorfindel snorted and lay down, head pillowed on his saddle as Bifur pulled out a piece of wood and began to carve.

Théoden paused and then joined them.

* * *

The days passed in travel. Even though their mounts did not need the rest of 'lesser' horses, though Théoden believed there was no such thing, there were those that could not keep up with Snowmane, not in the slightest, and not even Snowmane's dam had been able to keep up with him.

It seemed that Asfaloth was as unhappy as Snowmane to have found one that could keep up with the other.

Théoden chuckled as he realized what it was and Snowmane let out a small squeal, ears pinning back as he continued to try to antagonize Asfaloth into racing him.

"Well, they'll either become friends or antagonize each other forever," Glorfindel remarked after a week of travel, the pair skirting Saruman's lands the entire time as they rode.

* * *

Thorin had…seen Bilbo.

Briefly.

Bilbo had accepted it with a warm smile and squeezing his hands, and it is for Bilbo that in the lull between one thing or another he is needed for as King, that he stays, bent over papers.

It is the drawings for a brace for Bilbo. He trailed his gaze along them, noting that there was no way to escape putting a foot piece. But Thorin had seen Bilbo's feet often and noticed that the heel was the most calloused.

He took out the parchment meant for working out ideas for forging and crafting and began to take what his nephews and the Elf they had mentioned had started and began to improve.

He stretched it up first, so it would brace around his hips, but not interfere with how the sword belt would lie, but conform with it. He had watched Bilbo belt Sting on enough times to know how he preferred it to lie, so that was not so difficult.

Next came the padding and bracing around the thigh. Now the break had not been there, but the brace was to help ease the weight and make walking easier, so it needed to stretch his entire leg.

Thorin continued to work until he had something that would work. He knew it would be difficult. Added weight and such, but he saw how slowly and carefully Bilbo moved. That while he _could_ walk, it was never without a cane and it was not for long.

The longest walk Thorin had ever seen him take without pausing was from his bedroom to the front door.

Even while cooking he had to sit and rest his leg.

The last part was the part Bilbo might not like, but he would try something new if necessary after, which was that there was a 'foot rest' that just conformed to his heel.

He suddenly stood up, ignoring how the Ravens startled at his sudden movement. "I need a measuring tape," he said as he grabbed a notebook and a graphite pencil before he rushed off, a Raven flying off, likely to get the measuring tape.

"And Bilbo," he muttered as he began to walk off.

He vaguely heard Balin call his name, but it was _close_. There was a possibility, but it had only been used as a splint, not as a brace, not like this.

He took the secret paths up to the Dale Rooms and came to a stop outside of Bilbo's room, not overly surprised when a Raven landed on his shoulder, clutching a measuring tape in their beak. Thorin accepted it with a quiet 'thank you' before he knocked on the door.

"A moment," Bilbo called and Thorin smiled as the door opened and Bilbo blinked up at him.

"Thorin," he greeted warmly.

"I need to get your measurements," Thorin said.

"Which ones?" Bilbo asked.

"Leg, but your right heel."

Bilbo stared at him a little, confused and a little wary, but nodded. "Alright," he answered and stepped back, letting Thorin in.

* * *

The people of Erebor watched in warm fondness as their King began to rush around the mountain, collecting the best of bone healers and medical smiths, the designs in his hands started by inexperienced hands, but enhanced with experienced eyes.

They approved of the little Dwarf-like Hobbit, who followed their uncrowned King when others would not.

They saw him, what little of him they could with him not allowed within the Proper Halls, and how slow he moved. They wondered what caused the injury, as bad as any Hobbit in the gossiping department, though they would insist they were not gossiping.

And _if_ they were, it would be their opinion that Hobbits were as bad as any Dwarf in the gossiping department.

Not that they were gossiping.

But they approved of their King, their King that had won back the Mountain, brought back an Alliance of Old, struck down Orcs and Goblins and Wargs alike, and helped slay the Goblin King in the Misty Mountains, rushing for this little Dwarf-like Hobbit.

So, some moved their stalls more toward the outer markets, those that could move anyway, and watched the way the Hobbit limped with his nephew and two Elf guests, though one seemed forever lost in thought.

They were sympathetic once they learned he had untreated Memory Trapping, leading to the Fugues, and forgave his distances, especially as they weren't _violent_ ones, such as Waking Nightmares.

Benches of wood and stone alike began to appear in the outer markets and Bilbo did not comment, which the Dwarrows were very grateful for as this meant they wouldn't have to deny that they had appeared for Bilbo's sake alone.

As such both parties could politely pretend to believe their appearance was merely a happy coincidence.

* * *

Elrohir smiled as he looked over the fine threads and cloths, along with batting, that were over Dori's stall. "I take it you're enjoying being back?" he asked softly as he looked them over, wondering over the high quality.

He wondered if Dori was in one of the threadwork guilds or the dyers guild.

Merchant guild really only worked outside the Mountains, essentially, in their purpose but otherwise, they ran where shops were placed and who got stalls within.

He couldn't ask, of course, and Dori was one who tucked his braids out of sight from habit on the roads.

"Very much so," Dori said cheerfully as Elrohir began to carefully poke through the needles and hoops.

Elrohir weighed over how much he had, turning it over and then bought what he needed to enjoy his Craft, or one of them since he couldn't exactly go buy a loom, since he didn't have anything on him.

He could enjoy embroidery, however, and it would allow him to relax with the flashing of the needle and the colours as he embroidered the tiles to make a scene, and paid with a smile, knowing that Dwarrows didn't _haggle_ in their markets. They haggled where culture said to haggle, and to haggle was insulting the mastery of the work.

As such, they haggled where culture (such as Dale) was acceptable.

"Thank you," Elrohir said and drifted off with his purchases to start on working on a tiled scene and sort his thoughts.

* * *

"You two do realize that we won't be taking you all the way, right?" Glorfindel asked the two horses seriously in Quenya.

Both Snowmane and Asfaloth let out identical snorts of insult and then pinned their ears back at each other.

"We can't," Glorfindel said. "I'm pretty sure there are horrible things and as we draw closer, He will begin to notice the Ring coming closer. We cannot go through the front gates, so we must go through the back. These places always have a back entrance, but once we reach a point we will not be able to bring you with us."

They were obviously not happy, but took it with better grace than Glorfindel had expected, really.

"So, when we get to that point, we're going to untack you and put the tack out of sight and out of mind. Then comes the important part," he explained and they listened.

"Don't antagonize each other. You will be a bachelor herd of two for a time. And you must be the silent Untouched Shadow, the mists of the morning. You will travel, following each other's instincts and calls, until you Hear me, or Théoden, don't pretend you don't what I mean Snowmane, Call for you. And then you must Come to us. To race to us to your greatest strength, your greatest power. Do you understand?"

The two horses nodded and Glorfindel let go of their manes. "Good," he said and turned to find Bifur and Théoden staring at him.

"I was just telling them the plan," Glorfindel said in Westron.

"We have a plan?" Théoden asked seriously.

"A vague one," Glorfindel said with a shrug as the two horses promptly went to opposite ends of the camp again.

"We're walking into _Mordor_ , Prince Théoden. The plan for them is because we're not going through the front gate, we can't. As it is I feel…"

He paused and Bifur let out a few growls.

"If you mean the Nine Fallen, yes, that is what I feel," Glorfindel said quietly and Bifur nodded.

"The Nine Kings who succumbed to the Shadow of Sauron," Théoden said and Glorfindel nodded.

"But…"

He paused and Bifur asked something. "I fear that even as we do this, it will be not the end."

"You think there might be others?" Théoden asked.

"The Quest for Erebor was marred from the start. Even I heard of the price on King Thorin's head, offered in the tongue of the Black Speech. Why then? I fear…I fear there is one already ensnared by Shadow who will continue on after Sauron."

Bifur growled lowly at that and tightened his grip on his spear.

"I only know it _wasn't_ Gandalf or Radaghast," Glorfindel said and Bifur grumbled at that.

"Yes, Gandalf can be quite irritating," Glorfindel agreed and sighed. "But it does not matter. We will deal with this danger and then be watchful for the next. I will not leave till all of Sauron's influence is purged from Arda and the New Age dawns."

Théoden gave a small nod and Glorfindel sighed quietly.

"Let's rest," Glorfindel said softly as Bifur made a 'give' motion and Glorfindel passed the One Ring back over to him without hesitation.

Being near it made his Soul _ache_ and feel short of breath and ill.

Probably from killing a Balrog.

Bifur put it on and tucked it out of sight before he settled down to sleep, Théoden taking the watch.

"Why don't you trade off to me?" Théoden asked.

"I trust you, but if It gets nears a Man…"

"Oh," Théoden answered and then nodded before he began to take his first watch, and Glorfindel used Bifur's shin as a pillow.

* * *

Horns echoed through Erebor, the horns announcing an approaching Lord or King and Thorin looked up with a frown before he headed for the wall.

He reached it quickly and looked over, eyes narrowing before he sighed as he saw it was Dáin approaching.

He shook his head and made his way down to greet his cousin, crossing his arms when Dáin rode in on one of his boars, followed by guards on rams.

"You're early," Thorin intoned gravely and Dáin laughed, dismounting and pulling Thorin into a tight, warm hug.

Thorin grunted, but hugged his cousin back anyway.

"Wanted to meet your Hobbit," Dáin teased and Thorin huffed, tossing his head slightly, the braids feeling oddly weighted after so long of not wearing the full beads.

He had melted most of them down to provide metal to work with, or plain beads to sell.

"He's…"

"You must be Dáin," Bilbo's bright and warm voice greeted and Thorin turned to look at Bilbo, who had his usual Elf companions and Frodo by his side.

"Dáin Ironfoot, Lord of the Iron Hills," Dáin introduced with a small, polite, nod of his head.

Bilbo gave an adjusted proper bow back. "Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire," Bilbo introduced.

"Frodo Baggins, of the Shire," Frodo introduced with his usual solemnity in certain situations.

"Elladan of Rivendell."

"Elrohir of K…" Elrohir started to respond before he suddenly cut himself off.

"Sorry, habit. Elrohir of Rivendell," he answered quietly.

"Habit?" Dáin asked.

"I was an Ambassador for a long time and lived there, not in Rivendell," Elrohir answered hesitantly, as he usually did.

"Father did assign him as ambassador, yes," Elladan agreed, and it was not the first time Thorin suspected that they were not saying the whole truth.

"Ah," Dáin agreed. "Good to meet you all! With that out of the way, when will our first meal together be?"

Bilbo blinked and then his eyes widened. "Oh, dear, there's going to be an extra guest! Quick, we have to find Bombur and tell him," Bilbo said and paused long enough to give his good-byes before he was rushing off as fast as he could.

Thorin watched him leave, feeling a twisting in his chest, remembering how smoothly he moved in the Quest, light and graceful.

He let out a grunt when someone hit him on his back, between the shoulder blades, harder than necessary and he turned to glower at Dáin, who looked unrepentant. "Ah, stop it! Come, show me how Erebor has changed!" Dáin ordered and Thorin sighed but began to show his cousin the changes that had happened since he had last been in Erebor, which was for Thorin's coronation almost two years ago.

* * *

Elrohir paused in his making of a scene tile and looked up as a thought hit him.

He promptly set his embroidery to the side and went through the open secret door.

"Bilbo, I need to get some very fine paper and then I need to gather the whole and complete unvarnished truth of the Quest and following," Elrohir said and Bilbo blinked up at his sudden entrance.

"Alright," Bilbo said and began to get up, likely to help get Elrohir what he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...Balin mentioned Alexandrite. I cleared that up back in Chapter 2, just so you know. (It was supposed to say _through_ that time.)
> 
> To give an idea of how far away that is...TIMELINE CALANDER THING I MADE!!!!
> 
> 2 Thrimidge, 23 April, 1 Diamond
> 
> This takes place at around 26 Winterfilth, or 17 October, which is 29 Agate (last day of the month, right before the Days (4) of Alabaster Shaping, and then is Durin's Day (Dwarven New Year which I am...ignoring, so ignoring, the alignment thing for my sanity)
> 
> Diamond is their 7th month.
> 
> That arriving date is 187 Days Away.
> 
> Not the Trial Date, just everyone finally getting there.
> 
> ...Enjoy the time skips that will eventually be happening and it is entirely possible that in between that, Glorfindel, Bifur, and Théoden will destroy the One Ring. (Trying...to figure out how fast that will be)


	6. Keeping Time

Elrohir wrote carefully in Cirth in the proper format for Dwarven trials, transcribing over what he got through guilt-tripping the Dwarrows into telling him, spelling out the Quest, in all of its glory, but also with all of the tarnishes.

They were sometimes not very flattering and Elrohir felt no guilt over guilt-tripping the Dwarrows into telling him their parts of it, despairing over how he could not have Bifur's accounting. For now, he was transcribing Dwalin's, who had caved the fastest of them all.

His was also the hardest to listen to.

Dwalin was, unfailingly, honest. To his very Soul, he was who he was and he saw things how they were. Thorin was his Brother-in-Arms, a Blood Brother Unnamed in the more traditional sense (feeling of brotherhood), but he did not shy away from Thorin's weaker moments, nor the injuries he sustained.

So his was the most unvarnished, the Truest of them all, in a sense.

He hummed as he wrote it out, feeling Frodo entering his space. "Hello Little Frodo," he greeted warmly as he looked up and over to his best friend reborn.

He was surprised it took him so long to notice that Frodo must have the blood of the Line of Durin within him, and constantly in his presence from dawn to dusk, essentially, for him to see Náin's Soul there. Touched by the Shire and a Healing Life, he didn't hesitate to ruffle Frodo's hair.

Seeing Náin's Soul didn't hurt, not like seeing Thráin's, likely because he had missed Náin's childhood.

Elrohir had not been his first words or seen his first steps, but met him when he was already half-grown.

"Hello," Frodo answered quietly as he stared up at him.

Possibly also because Frodo was a Hobbit overall and not a Dwarf.

"What's wrong?" Elrohir asked as he carefully set the special quill aside and made sure everything was set properly aside before he turned to lift Frodo up onto his lap.

"Everyone's talking about Uncle Bilbo going through a trial," Frodo said.

"Yes. He must. Dwarven Law is…unshakeable in this. Banishment is the most grievous punishment that can be handed down. Besides a Traitor's Death, of course, but that's a different topic. And one I will not go into," Elrohir said softly.

"So…we might not be able to stay?" Frodo asked quietly and Elrohir hummed before he pressed his forehead to Frodo's.

"I will not let that happen, little one," Elrohir answered softly. "I know Dwarvish Law. And I will present the best defence to get the banishment rescinded."

Frodo sniffled and Elrohir lifted his head from Frodo's and cuddled him close. "It's alright, you can," he soothed softly as he rubbed the faunt's back and rocked as he hummed soft lullabies, Elvish and Dwarvish alike as Frodo sobbed against his shoulder.

Once Frodo was cried out, Elrohir stood up and carried him into Bilbo's kitchen so he could get a clean cloth to wipe Frodo's face off with and maybe get him something to eat.

"Better?" Elrohir asked softly once Frodo's face was cleaned and he had an apple.

"Yeah," Frodo answered quietly.

"Good. Now, let's go get you to be a little faunt, hmmm?" Elrohir said as he left a note for Bilbo before carrying Frodo out of Erebor.

* * *

Balin sighed as he ran his hand over his beard, trying to figure out the best way to spearhead Bilbo's defence in their favour.

"Is it not going well?" Dís asked as she stepped in.

"Not particularly. I have Bifur's truth of the Quest, as well as Ori's and a few others," Balin said with a sigh. "But I am quite busy, as you may have noticed."

"I did. And so has one of Bilbo's Elves, the one with the horse name. He is collecting the Tales," Dís answered and Balin blinked.

"An Ambassador would not know so much," Balin murmured.

"No, an Ambassador would not. He was loved as much as he loved," Dís said softly.

"Valdi will return to you soon," Balin reassured and Dís's nose wrinkled slightly at being caught out on thinking on her husband.

"Yes, well," she muttered and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "So it is to figure out who his Dwarf was. There might be cousins or such he could connect with."

"Possibly. They might even have a mention of him if that is the case. It could comfort him, to know he is remembered fondly," Balin agreed and Dís nodded.

"So, who was high enough to let him…find out without getting in trouble?"

"Someone Durin favoured," Balin said flatly and Dís suddenly gave a small snort.

Balin raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry, just…imagining if it was Durin who he loved and loved him in return. He would most _definitely_ have been _taught_ not just 'found out'."

Balin chuckled a little in agreement. "He would," he said, remembering mentioning in the Old Chronicles of One Who Held Durin's Heart.

How Thorin would twitch if it was an Elf.

Balin chuckled again, realizing the real reason for Dís's amusement.

Of course, such a thing would have been better mentioned and it is likely that Durin's Heart perished by Durin's Bane.

"Well, if he has the Tales, then best to let him keep at it, and I'll translate them over properly," Balin answered and frowned slightly. "If I have the time."

"They'll accept Westron writings in this case," Dís reassured softly and then shook her head. "I came for another purpose. It is almost sunset, Balin."

Balin blinked and then quickly stood. "Oh, I had completely forgotten today was Durin's Day!"

* * *

Bilbo blinked as Elrohir carefully gathered them together, putting his finger to his lips before he began to guide Bilbo, and Frodo, toward a wall. He whispered to it and Bilbo's eyes widened as a door opened for them. "Promise not to tell till asked?" he asked softly and Frodo nodded excitedly and Bilbo promised vocally.

Elrohir smiled and then began to guide them forward, keeping a supporting hand on Bilbo until they reached a hidden balcony that looked over into a beautiful, gleaming, cavern. There was a bench with cushions on them and Elrohir urged them to sit before he shifted so he could speak to them.

"This is the Durin's Day of Durin's Folk," Elrohir explained softly and gave a nod as there was a rush of wings and the Ravens of Erebor suddenly rushed into the cavern, flying up to where crystal lanterns hung, making the lights flicker with decorative shadow before they glided down to land on perches, just in time as Dwarrows began to march forward.

It was…joyful and light, but also sorrowful and spoke of long years of _surviving_.

Elrohir stayed with them the entire time and when it was over, the dawn's light starting to fill the cavern, Elrohir picked up the sleeping Frodo.

"Welcome to the New Year. May it hold greater treasure and fewer sorrows," Elrohir intoned softly as he wrapped his free arm around Bilbo to help him walk back.

* * *

Bifur grunted and Glorfindel nodded in agreement.

"Winter is upon us," Théoden said. "We'll need to find a place to shelter for the heart of it."

"We'll find it," Glorfindel promised softly and gave a nod. "But for now, we make haste while we can."

Théoden nodded in agreement and they began to ride off, following Bifur's feelings on where to go, all while avoiding the largest settlements of Men, Elves, and Dwarrows alike.

And that feeling of the Nine grew in the back of Glorfindel's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Well, that was fast.
> 
> Also, I'm gonna giggle over this being exactly eight months before the date I use for Durin's Day by our calendar.
> 
> So this chapter ends on Durin's Day. Growing ever closer to the arrival of the Dwarf Lords.


	7. Braces, Spectacles, and Time

Balin sighed as he lowered the paperwork slightly to give Thorin a long stare.

"I don't need glasses. It would just go faster if you read it," Thorin argued, crossing his arms slightly.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Balin said dryly and Thorin glowered at him, then startled as there was a knock, followed by one of the Elves just…walking in.

"How did you get here?" Thorin asked and blinked as the Elf promptly began to take measurements of his nose and…well, measurements for glasses.

He then startled when the Elf put his hand over his eyes, briefly, slammed his hand on the paper he was carrying which let numbers transcribe and he stood up, taking the paper with them.

"Right, give it a month," the Elf said and turned to leave.

"How…" Thorin started to repeat, only for the Elf to be gone.

"What just happened?" Thorin asked.

"I believe you were just measured for glasses by an Elf who got past three levels of guards and Dwalin," Balin answered and Thorin leapt out of his chair, rushing out only to find the hallway empty both ways.

"How?" he repeated.

* * *

 

Elrohir knew those of Durin's Direct Line.

They were more stubborn than even the tallest mountains that stretched into the sky to touch the stars themselves.

So he took it upon himself to ease Bilbo's concerns over Thorin's headaches, or at least some of them, and began to wander down the way to the specialist forges, ignoring the wide-eyed stares of various Dwarrows, and then into the forges. He glanced around, flicking around until he came across one that took trade over coin and he headed that way.

He made sure they specialized in crystal lenses before he greeted the Dwarf standing there, looking as shocked as all the rest. "You specialize in platinum and crystal glasses. Would this necklace work in exchange for glasses at these specifications?" he asked as he held both out to the Dwarf.

They, Elrohir gave a quick read of the braids and beads he could see and corrected to _she_ , took both and read it over. "Yes. Take about a month. What is he doing, squinting?"

"Yes," Elrohir answered and she gave a nod.

"A month," she repeated and pulled out a pre-made contract, surprisingly in Westron.

She filled in _Elf-Crafted Necklace of Silver and White-Gold_ for _Pair of Platinum and Crystal Spectacles_.

She held it out and Elrohir gave a quick read over and signed before he handed it back. "I'm Horse named Elf of Bilbo's," he explained and she gave a nod as Elrohir turned to walk back out of the specialized forges.

"How did he even know that?" he heard her mutter in Khuzdul.

"Crazy horse named Elf?"

Elrohir rolled his eyes and began to walk back out into the guest areas of the Kingdom.

* * *

 

Elrohir made a noise as Bilbo tugged him down to eye-level, which had Thorin letting out a choked chuckle.

Bilbo ignored him. "Elrohir," Bilbo said warningly.

"Yes, my best and most darling friend of mine?" Elrohir asked with an innocent smile.

"Did you go around upsetting any Dwarrows today?"

"Only a _little_ ," Elrohir said.

"Did you do so in a manner that would make them twitchy?"

"Only a _little_."

Elrohir made another noise as he was tugged a little closer. "Elrohir," Bilbo said warningly.

"Bilbo," he answered cheerfully.

"Be _have_ ," Bilbo said and he chuckled quietly.

"Well, I don't have to go back," Elrohir said. "What I needed will be delivered here. Also, what is with Dwarrows and their fascination for the fact part of my name means horse?"

"Roughly. It also means Knight, essentially. If we were to break it down into the proper components, it would be Elf-Knight," Bilbo said and Elrohir gave a shrug.

"The fascination is from the fact your name seems to have defined you in a way in that you have become that knight. You use a spear and swords and ride on a horse," Thorin added and Bilbo startled, having somewhat forgotten he was there.

"I suppose," Elrohir agreed. "Can you let me go now, Bilbo?"

Bilbo huffed and let Elrohir go, Elladan sweeping in with his arms full of Frodo. "Some of the Dwarrow children are heading out. Come on, our horses need some air too," he said with a toss of his head.

"Alright," Elrohir answered and leaned forward.

Bilbo smiled at the way Elrohir pressed his forehead to Bilbo's before he pressed a kiss to his hair, and then pulled back, turning to take Frodo from Elladan's arms. "Be back at dusk," Elrohir promised and they swept out, Frodo waving over Elrohir's shoulder at Bilbo.

Bilbo waved back and chuckled as Thorin promptly settled down in front of him, pushing his head back against Bilbo's knees, carefully.

"So impertinent," Bilbo said as he began to carefully work on massaging Thorin's scalp and down his neck without upsetting the braids, pausing when he felt a thick one at the back of his head for the first time. "Thorin?"

Thorin tensed slightly. "I…I can't tell you," he said. "Not yet. Just…be careful with it, please?"

"Of course," Bilbo said softly and worked to keep quiet about it and careful with removing his fingers from near the braid, focusing on massaging down the neck.

Thorin made a low sound and began to slump back slightly and Bilbo continued to massage, blinking slightly when his leg twitched and Thorin started to pull away. "I'm fine," he said quietly and Thorin hummed as he began to shift.

He shifted and blinked sharply as Thorin shifted enough he could carefully massage Bilbo's leg without giving up his head massage.

Bilbo chuckled and after a few moments of twitching pain, he relaxed as well before he continued to work on massaging Thorin's head.

They stayed like that until Thorin felt Bilbo's fingers slide out of his hair. He shifted to look up and smiled to see Bilbo had fallen asleep.

He frowned when Bilbo's forehead scrunched slightly and he made a small noise. Thorin knew it wasn't a pained noise, but…

It niggled at something in his memory and he carefully withdrew his hands. "Bilbo?" he called softly.

There was that sound again and he shivered, twitching, hands jerking slightly. "Bilbo," he called again as he shifted to kneel up.

He reached out, hands resting on Bilbo's shoulders and Bilbo was…Awake.

Awake in a Waking Nightmare, and Thorin felt a bit like an idiot for touching Bilbo when he was in a nightmare. "Bilbo, my burglar," he called and…that seemed not to help.

"I'm sorry!" Bilbo said as he made a small noise again. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to save you!"

Thorin yanked back, feeling as if he had been burned and he carefully leaned back. "Bilbo," he called softly.

"Bilbo, I forgive you, I understand," he soothed and paused, watching as Bilbo babbled and made sounds, terrified and upset.

He blinked and then began to hum. He watched as Bilbo started to calm and Thorin smiled slightly. "Far over, the Misty Mountains cold," he began to sing softly.

He continued to sing and repeated it until Bilbo calmed and slipped back into a proper sleep. He made a soft sound and reached out, gently running his fingers through Bilbo's hair. Bilbo tilted into his touch and Thorin smiled sadly at Bilbo.

He really needed to work on getting someone here to speak with Bilbo, to help with the Waking Nightmares, or just the normal nightmares that came from the Battle.

Or almost being tossed from the battlements in a Dragon Cursed and Ring Sickness Fueled Rage.

And the Battle.

Thorin sighed quietly and carefully stood. He shifted and then began to pick Bilbo up. Bilbo made a small sound of pain and Thorin hummed quietly as he carried Bilbo to bed and settled him in.

He ran his hand over Bilbo's hair gently and stepped back. He left his own note on the pillow and set the bedwarmers to work before he left the room quietly.

He sighed as he leaned against the door, closing his eyes before he stood and headed for the Healing Forges and the healing halls off their side.

"How goes the brace?" he asked as he stepped in and the Master Forger in charge of the project drew Thorin over to bring him up to date on the project.

The metal brace was finished, and they were merely about to start padding and placing the leather straps into place. "It will support him well, Your Majesty," the Master Forger reassured and Thorin nodded with quiet praise before he turned to head to the Healing Halls.

He needed to find a Battle Mind specialist who also specialized in Civilian aid.

* * *

 

Bilbo had hesitated over speaking with Rannvá before he agreed.

Elrohir had smiled sadly at his own Battle and Solider Specialized and said he could not help. That even the greatest of Vows would weigh him down too much.

Litthrasir had huffed, but conceded, but only on the condition that Elrohir finds someone to speak with.

Elrohir gave after that.

* * *

 

Litthrasir stopped dead upon entering the small study Elrohir had set aside for their sessions.

Elrohir, the Elf, with the braids of a Dwarf in his hair, along with the equal beads.

The ones that framed his face also named him a _Legend Maker_.

He Held the Heart of Durin, and if the beads were any indication, Durin Held his Own Heart in Return.

He had stood when Khazad-dûm fell, had carried their Founder from Khazad-dûm as Durin's Bane turned it into a tomb.

The Healers knew the Legend Maker. Knew the stories and Legends. The wounds like starbursts across his abdomen from where he had twice saved Durin's life.

Their records were vague about his leaving, but the Blood Brother of Durin, Holder of his Heart, was sitting in front of him.

"Oh," Litthrasir said.

Elrohir smiled, a thing, humourless thing. "Quite," he responded quietly.

"Well…let's…talk," Litthrasir said as he reined in his urge to ask if the scars were true.

Elrohir let out a quiet chuckle and nodded, the braids only lightly swaying with the motion.

* * *

 

Bilbo shuffled a little in his seat as Rannvá sat across from him, in the identical study set up for him.

"Elladan has Frodo," she reassured.

Bilbo nodded a little, not entirely sure how this was supposed to help.

"How about we just get to know each other first? What is the Shire like?"

Bilbo relaxed slightly and began to talk.

* * *

 

Bilbo frowned a little as he eyed the brace, as well as the _highly indecent_ trousers.

"Thorin, these are _highly indecent!_ It is sheer cloth! And short!" Bilbo said, not able to stop his scandalized tone.

"They're lightweight and meant to be worn under the brace to help prevent chaffing," Thorin explained. "Bilbo, please?"

Bilbo huffed and crossed his arms before he sighed and nodded in agreement.

Thorin left him with the brace and _highly indecent_ trousers and Bilbo focused on getting the indecent trousers on first before he began to put on the brace.

The part going around his heel was…odd, but he followed the directions, carefully leveraging himself up to finish buckling it around his hips. He felt…odd, and a little heavy on one side, but he took a careful step, blinking over how he could almost _feel_ the brace take his weight instead. The straps and their careful padding securing his leg from his foot up to his hip and even around and down slightly.

He blinked and startled a little when there was a knock. "Bilbo, the healer needs to look," Thorin called through the door.

"Al…alright," Bilbo said quietly, stuttering a little, and the door opened and a different healer from Rannvá stepped in.

He, since he had a 'son of' bead in his hair, helped make sure everything was settled properly and gave a nod before he showed Bilbo how to get his regular trousers on once the brace was on. "Keep your cane with you," the healer said and Bilbo nodded as he took the cane as he began to walk around the room, the healer nodding.

"Just walk as normally as you can," the healer reassured as they moved and then nodded so Bilbo could enter out into the main room.

Thorin stood up rapidly, clutching tightly to Frodo as he stood.

Bilbo was a little surprised to see Dáin was present and Bilbo smiled at the Dwarf Lord of the Iron Hills, or the Dwarf Lord of Durin.

"Dáin," Bilbo greeted as he walked forward, surprised at how easy it was. "Good to see you. Was our luncheon today?"

"No, but Thorin was so nervous, I wanted to see about what, Luck Maker," Dáin answered with a chuckle.

Before Bilbo could protest the name, he was being wrapped up in a hug by Thorin and, consequently, Frodo.

"Uncle Bilbo!" Frodo exclaimed.

"Frodo," Bilbo responded warmly as he hugged Thorin and Frodo back.

"We'll keep an eye on it, but I think it will work rather well. A bi-weekly check-up, I think," the healer said. "But Óin, I think, can take over for now and assign someone else as needed. I am the Medical Forger, over a healer. I help with the braces, prosthetics, and other things that need multiple pieces. And wheelchairs, actually. We can look into one for you one very bad days, if you wish, Master Baggins."

Bilbo nodded a little from against Thorin's chest and the healer smiled before he left.

"Dáin, stay for lunch?" Bilbo offered and Dáin grinned widely.

"Aye, I'd like that, Luck Maker!" Dáin cheered and Bilbo chuckled before he carefully extracted himself, then paused.

"Where has that nickname come from?" Bilbo asked.

Thorin flushed as Dáin laughed while Frodo wiggled his way free to go help Bilbo with lunch.

* * *

 

Thorin squinted at the paperwork, shifting it and trying to see it better when his door opened. He jumped when he saw the Elf, vaguely, there and he jumped slightly when there was a soft touch and his vision suddenly _cleared_. He blinked sharply as he adjusted to the clearer world around him and he felt the coolness of metal over his ears. "There," the Elf said. "And now you don't have to give yourself headaches and eye aches from all the squinting."

Thorin continued to blink and then the Elf turned, leaving as Balin entered, who turned, only to be equally surprised.

"When did you get glasses?" Balin asked as Thorin continued to just be…amazed at how _clear_ the world suddenly was, and how there were details he hadn't even known he was missing until just now.

He blinked when he realized a note had been left and he picked it up, surprised he could _actually_ read it.

 

> _These glasses have charms to help you both up close and distance. Your vision isn't exactly the best, though understandable. I'm sure you made sure that Balin and Dís got the eye care **they** needed but you were not so careful with your own._
> 
> _Wear. Them._
> 
> _Please._
> 
> _Bilbo makes faces when he realizes you have bad headaches._
> 
> _No, I'm not above guilt-tripping you into using them._
> 
> _Elrohir, the horse-named Elf, with your fascination regarding that for some reason_

* * *

 

"Elrohir!" Bilbo exclaimed and Elrohir just chuckled as he was tugged down to Bilbo's eye-level, Bilbo standing rather easily with the help of the brace.

He pressed his forehead to Bilbo's, even as Bilbo huffed over Elrohir startling the Dwarrows over being where he shouldn't be and all without anyone realizing he was getting in there.

He was going to drive Nori insane trying to figure out how he was doing it. That was if he didn't drive Dwalin insane first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 Foreyule/30 November/10 Moonstone – End of Chapter  
> [Link to the Calendar Sync (more or less); Gregorian is used for Third Age, despite that not being accurate entirely](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jFm-qJ-5FgSN3gx2Klvy6jBPUK5b-VZh/view?usp=sharing)
> 
> Eventually, I'll get a timeline link in for people and then it will _really_ be fun.


	8. The Dwarf Lords of the Ironfists and the Stiffbeards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Khuzdul"**

Fíli smiled as he hefted Frodo up, tucking him on his blind hip, Frodo giggling brightly as Fíli spun around with him, ignoring the ache that sparked up along his blind side. "Got you," Fíli teased warmly as he pressed his forehead to Frodo's.

The little Faunt giggled and Fíli was glad to see the happy and cheerful little child instead of the sullen protective adult in a child's body.

Frodo did the tiny head tap against Fíli's forehead that he always did in response to pressing their foreheads to his when they were both startled by the blowing of the horns that meant an approaching Dwarf Lord or King.

More likely to be a Lord in this case, however.

"But it's past Yule," Frodo said with a tiny pout in his voice.

Fíli nodded in agreement and began to head that way, grabbing his sword as he did so, just in case. He said the password, probably a little too loudly, but better Frodo has a safe place to run then trapped by ignorance. They walked along quickly and Fíli came to a stop in an alcove as Erebor's gates began to open, the snow blowing inside as they opened inward, the drawbridge lowering as they did so.

In came a pair of Dwarves on thick winter coated goats, snow clinging to them.

"They're here really early," Frodo whispered as he tucked himself against Fíli.

"They are," Fíli agreed quietly as he watched the activity break out below, the guards following before the drawbridge began to be raised.

 **"We were slowed on the way, but we seem to have beat the worst of the storms,"** the first Dwarf said and pushed back his cloak hood to reveal hair as white as the snow that clung to the goats before he dismounted.

The goat began to be lead off as the next dismounted.

 **"I still say we should have waited for our snows to melt,"** the second grumbled and shoved his own hood back to reveal hair that looked like molten iron.

Fíli narrowed his gaze at them and then hissed a curse between his teeth. "Fíli?" Frodo asked very softly.

"They're the Stiffbeard and Ironfist Lords," Fíli explained and began to back away. "We have to tell your uncle and his Elves."

Frodo nodded, burying his face against Fíli's shoulder as Fíli rushed to get to Bilbo's chambers before he was made to be respectful.

He ran as quickly as the phantom ache in his left eye would let him, through back paths and more until he was at Bilbo's door. He knocked but walked in without an invitation. "Bilbo?" he called.

Fíli looked around and nearly let out a noise of relief when he heard Bilbo call back.

He rushed over to Bilbo and carefully passed Frodo to him. "You…don't go anywhere alone," Fíli said quietly.

"What? Why?" Bilbo asked.

"The…Longbeard Dwarrows, us, me, Thorin, the majority of the Dwarrows here, they're insular, yes, but not without…omitting Elves, we don't…well, okay, we're Dwarrows, but we're not insular to the point of rejecting all other Races. Omitting Elves, but that's just a long-standing enmity that's not going to go away anytime soon."

Fíli took a deep breath and sighed. "The first two Dwarf Lords to arrive, that aren't Dáin, are Stiffbeards and Ironfists, and they don't even know Westron. Their guards will, likely be either from the Blue Mountains or the Iron Hills, or have a parent from there. A requirement of being a Lord Guard is to know Westron, so the Dwarf Lords do not have to 'sully their tongues with the speech of Common Races'. So…avoid. Constantly. One has white hair with black beads and the other has hair like molten metal and the beads blend in. Their beards are also long enough to tuck into belts if they so desired," Fíli explained and Bilbo nodded a little.

"We won't go anywhere alone," Bilbo promised and Fíli pressed his forehead gratefully against Bilbo's with a heavy sigh of relief.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome. Do you have time for tea or should you disappear into the Kingdom?"

"Disappear into the Kingdom. I'll send Mother to you," Fíli promised and took off again, ignoring the ache that grew in his eye as he rushed back, hoping to cut it off.

Kíli would not handle any bad talking of Bilbo and best to just prevent an international incident.

* * *

 

Kíli stood calmly next to Thorin, ignoring how the Stiffbeard Lord, Eivindur, with his white hair dotted with black beads, grumbled in Khuzdul about even bothering with a trial about rescinding.

The Ironfist Lord, Fláim, with his golden beads practically hidden in his hair that was like molten iron, agreed.

Thorin's fists clenched behind his back, but he merely smiled.

Kíli's eyes almost widened slightly when Thorin gave a nod. "But a Trial will be held all the same," he answered in Westron and even Balin's eyebrows lifted briefly at the, shockingly subtle for a Dwarf, insult that Thorin just levelled at them.

Eivindur and Fláim bristled, even as Thorin stared at them. **"I was just in trade agreements with Dale, our steadfast neighbours who helped us stand against the armies of Orcs and Goblins that raged on our doorstep. Must still just be a habit from earlier,"** he said, and he technically wasn't lying.

If one stretched the meaning of the word _'just'_ to include yesterday.

And neither Dwarf Lord would say, to a _King's face_ , that he had levelled that insult at them on Bilbo's behalf.

 **"Of course, Your Majesty. No harm was done,"** Eivindur said quietly and Thorin gave a nod as Kíli stepped forward.

 **"You and your guards must be tired, Your Lordships. Would you give me leave to escort you to your rooms?"** Kíli said with a proper bow of a Prince toward Lords.

Not deferential, but respectful and they gave a bow in return. **"Of course, Prince Kíli,"** Fláim answered with a nod and Kíli gave a careful nod to Thorin.

 **"Your Majesty, I know that you have more business that needs your eye,"** Kíli said and Thorin gave a nod.

 **"Thank you, nephew. It was difficult to get away,"** Thorin agreed and Kíli promptly began to lead the two Dwarf Lords away.

Meeting with their guards, Kíli was only slightly surprised when Dwalin fell in with him.

They were up in the Noble Guest Halls before one of the visiting Dwarf Lords spoke.

 **"What is this trial really about?"** Eivindur asked.

 **"What it sounds like,"** Dwalin growled.

Kíli reached out to gently touch Dwalin's elbow. **"Master Baggins of the Shire has further evidence to offer at his trial. With that in mind, it is improper and _unlawful_ to discuss any area of it outside of defence and counter-arguments within the segments of the agreed lines."**

Dwalin subsided with a small grumble and glared at them.

The guards didn't seem put out by the fact their charges were insulted, as their Lords had likely insulted them the entire way down here.

 **"Still, I don't understand the need for this farce. It isn't like he can provide his own defence, the beardless Elf-eared…thing that he is,"** Fláim remarked and Kíli barely keeps his temper, and his tongue, in check.

He thinks about the Shire as they head toward the apartments that were, again, a subtle for a Dwarf, insult. **"Law dictates he be given a credible defence,"** Kíli reminded him.

 **"It is not like he would know. Best to just give an illusion and send him back on his way like the Traitor he is,"** Eivindur remarked.

Kíli barely keeps his tongue in check and instead smiles at the two Dwarf Lords in what likely looks serene and innocent but has Dwalin tensing just slightly.

Kíli has spent _months_ in the Shire. He watched them dance insult around what seemed like compliments in a battle that would leave any Dwarf quivering in fear.

He knew _exactly_ how to phrase something in such a way that if they would learn to keep their words civil or, at the very least, keep their words to themselves.

 **"Please, enjoy the hospitality befitting your natures,"** Kíli said with a bow.

They puffed up slightly at what they thought was a compliment while Kíli gave a nod and began to head back.

Once they were well enough away Kíli turned to Dwalin. "Tell Nori that any who like Bilbo best make sure that it is known we're giving Lord Eivindur and Lord Fláim _required_ hospitality only."

Dwalin stared at him. "Remind me to never get on yer bad side, lad," he remarked and Kíli grinned.

"Dwalin, you _can't_ get there!" Kíli said cheerfully and headed for the Hall of Petitioners, where Thorin was holding Court and hopefully wearing his new glasses that could barely be seen from a distance.

* * *

 

Helcheth snorted, her breath plumes of mist as Elrohir mounted up, dressed against the cold, Gwilwileth own breath joining Helcheth's in the clouds of grey and silver. Elladan was dressed as warmly as Elrohir as they rode from Dale back up to Erebor, having left the day before.

They had heard the horns, however, and Elrohir had…a look.

It was _not_ a good look.

It made Elladan consider asking if they should go find and kill a few Orcs.

So they rode back early, and the bridge is being lowered for them and the doors swinging in instead of out due to the snow, and in they trot, the gold finally having been replaced with something more practical.

"We can care for them," Elrohir said as he dismounted. "Did Bilbo…meet the Stiffbeard and Ironfist Lords?"

The Dwarrows at the Gate seemed a little surprised by the fact Elrohir had accurately guessed which Dwarf Lords would be there before the others, omitting Dáin. "No, he's been up in his rooms," one of the Gate Guards said.

"Good," Elrohir said quietly. "We need to keep it that way. I doubt either have changed much in a few centuries."

"Probably not," the same Gate Guard agreed and Elrohir began to lead Helcheth toward the stables, and Elladan paused.

"What is bad about them?" he asked quietly.

The Gate Guard hesitated. "Stiffbeards and Ironfists only really interact with each other except when they cannot. Those of the higher birth would only marry outside of those two Clans if it was an item of last resort. The Dwarf Lords know no Westron, for they would dare not…it would be impolite to repeat. Of all the Dwarrows, they are the most insular. They trade with other Dwarrows only and for that, they pay dearly for anything they cannot make or grow themselves," he said quietly. "Including new strains of goats. We at least trade and work with those beyond Dwarven Kingdoms."

"And I'm guessing that when you say 'trade with Dwarrows' you mean only those that are not wandering in exile," Elladan said quietly and the Gate Guard hesitated before he nodded.

"Thorin was still a King, though, so they could not slight him in that way."

Elladan gave a nod and thanked him, turning to follow after Elrohir.

They put up their mounts, but in the grand scheme of things, they don't get far before they find Fíli curled up tightly, gripping the left side of his head, trembling.

"Oh, you silly dwarfling," Elrohir said softly and it is with shocking strength that he scoops Fíli up into his arms.

But it is centuries of wielding a sword and spear, centuries of working in forges and helping to clear rubble and hunting Orcs and for all his build is lithe, even Elladan could carry Fíli.

Fíli, however, doesn't seem to notice and Elrohir hesitated. "You need to take him to Bilbo. I'm the only one who can get to Dís," Elrohir said and Elladan carefully took Fíli from his brother.

"How many knives does he have?" Elladan asked, Fíli weighing more than he expected.

"As many as can fit," Elrohir answered and then he was gone, a flicker of Untouched Shadow.

Elladan took Fíli to Bilbo and an hour later Dís was there for her son.

But Elrohir remained missing and Elladan resisted the urge to bash his head against a stone wall.

* * *

 

Elrohir watched the Dwarf Lords from the time he had left Dís to the Evening Bells.

They had been insulting and called Bilbo and 'it' and a 'thing' every chance they could.

Well, that settled it.

He would have to go for something that would make any of Durin's Folk proud.

Specifically, very angry, furious, _protective_ , Durin's Folk in full regalia for Political Battle.

If the Balrog had seen Elrohir's smile at that moment, it would have fled the Misty Mountains, even if it were High Noon and The Valar themselves were waiting to strike it down upon its escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, we had to have two right off the bat. And also...there had to be a group of Dwarrows that went extreme.
> 
>  **S.R. 1346/T.A. 2946/D.R. 2946**  
>  9 Afteryule/31 December/12 Onyx


	9. The Tensions Between the Citizens of Erebor and the Annoying Dwarf Lords

**"I'm going to punch one,"** Bofur growled, glowering at the Dwarf Lords' backs, resisting the urge to throw his mattock at them.

 **"You will not,"** Bombur said as he helped Bofur pick up the toys and other wood carvings that the Dwarf Lords had dismissed and, worse, knocked off their stone shelves.

 **"I will if any of those are broken,"** Bofur growled and focused on picking up, feeling the tension of the other Dwarrows around them, some sending their assistants over to help with clean up.

Even those neutral toward Bilbo had shifted gears to bare civility in response to the dismissive way the Stiffbeard and Ironfist Lords were treating them all as a whole.

* * *

 

Bofur blinked when Bilbo opened his door before he could knock. "I heard about the…market incident," Bilbo explained and Bofur twitched in remembered anger.

"Come. I made some rabbit stew," he said and Bofur perked up as he followed Bilbo in laughing as Frodo rushed up to him and he picked him up, promptly taking his hat off to plop onto Frodo's head.

It was a small dinner.

Dáin was involved, for some reason. The reason cleared for Bofur as he proceeded to tell Bilbo what was likely another in a long line of embarrassing stories about Thorin.

* * *

 

Dwalin hid with Bilbo every damned chance he could manage so he didn't kill the visiting Dwarf Lords.

Bilbo made him cheesy scones, which helped keep the murderous impulses under control.

And he even helped Bilbo with is letter-opener, though the Elvish script along it had Dwalin tilting his head.

"My _letter-opener_ has a name now. And has done great deeds," Bilbo teased and then read out what it said along the swirl.

* * *

 

Lords Fláim and Eivindur have no idea how lucky they are that Óin is deaf.

Glóin has listened with a warm smile as his older brother spoke fondly and longingly of the Hobbit spinster back in the Shire, waiting for him to come back. Lily Took-Bank, an elderly Spinster, easily matching Óin in equivalent age. They are lucky, Glóin knows this.

They will be unlikely to outlive each other. Hobbits are not as long-lived as Dwarrows in general and _especially_ not Long-Beards.

So when they insult the 'Common Races', Glóin doesn't show it if only so Óin won't challenge them to a duel for the slight against his Beloved One.

"So very lucky, lad. My Gimili's gettin' close though, so his mother is keeping a sharp eye on him," Glóin complained as he helped Bilbo learn about coin and trade laws within Erebor and out in Dale.

"If Lily knew, she'd heft up a sword to duel them herself," Bilbo reassured and Glóin chuckled in slight relief.

* * *

 

Elladan and Elrohir stood on the battlement, staring out across the flat between Erebor and Dale, mostly to escape the tense atmosphere of the mountain, though Elladan's eyes were flicking beyond.

"Oh, just go spend time with Legolas," Elrohir said with a sigh. "Go hunt evil giant spiders and slaughter any Orcs that are stuck among the trees."

"It is not wise to go alone," Elladan argued half-heartedly.

"Yes, and? While I was Ambassador to Khazad-dûm, you were to Greenwood, and Arwen to Lothlórien. And all is similar; those places are as Home to us as Rivendell," Elrohir argued in Sindarin. "Go, visit the Home you can. Winters are long here and you can't help with the defence."

"Some are more Home than Rivendell," Elladan answered in Sindarin and paused with a quiet sigh.

"Fine," he grumbled and Elrohir chuckled.

"Besides, there are enough people wanting to punch a pair of Dwarf Lords and I'd rather not have to see you temporarily kicked out of Erebor for giving into the impulse," Elrohir added.

They break into a small scuffle and give identical yelps when Dwalin grabs them by the back of their coats and yanks them into behaving.

They turned to pout at the Dwarven warrior, but Dwalin is scowling at them.

For a moment, Elladan thought he saw Dwalin's scowl focused more on Elrohir than the pair, before brushing it off.

"Stop acting like Dwarflings and more like the sons of Lords," Dwalin grumbled.

"Yes, Sir Dwalin," Elrohir answered and Dwalin blinked sharply while Elladan merely agreed.

"You know, if ye want us to continue politely believing that Ambassador story, yeh should maybe not be so quick to just _know_ how to address people," Dwalin remarked.

"Ah, but Dwalin, my father _did_ name me Ambassador," Elrohir answered with a grin.

* * *

 

Elladan leaves the following morning, which is rather a good thing because after three weeks in Erebor, tensions are running a _tad_ high between the Citizens of Erebor and the two visiting Dwarf Lords.

* * *

 

Dori barely keeps himself from reacting.

He had honestly thought himself safe from the two _other_ Dwarf Lords, but he was apparently not.

They were prickly and upset, likely because they were being treated with only the civility and hospitality demanded by their shared culture. But that didn't mean that Dwarrows who spoke Westron wouldn't drop into it to speak with their assistants or over the heads of the Dwarf Lords.

Reverse, really, of what they did in front of those they didn't like, or Men who tried to cheat them, outside of Mountains.

In fact, unless one had a disability, such as Bifur, that prevented them from speaking, or knowing, one language or another, it was the highest of insults a Dwarf could give another Dwarf to converse with them in Westron.

The fact that the Dwarrows were using Westron _because_ the Dwarf Lords did not know it spoke of an even greater insult still.

It _screamed_ that they were only being as civil as they were because it was required of them and they would not give a bare bit of civility more than that.

It was driving the Dwarf Lords mad, Dori was sure, to the point that they had come to the outer areas, where traders of Men also resided.

They noticeably snubbed them, which had the Men sharing confused looks before shrugging it off and going back to working with the Dwarrows that came to see their wares.

Most Dwarrows who were against Men weren't so against one little Hobbit (and his Ward) and would venture out to see him, sit with him.

Dori busied himself with his stall of threads, a member of the Weaver and Dyer guilds, specializing in creating yarn and thread so fine that only the dyes spoke of it having colour at all as it was unspooled.

So, naturally, the Dwarf Lords came to him.

 _Wonderful_.

 **"What brings you to my humble stall, Your Lordships?"** Dori greeted and pretended not to notice Nori suddenly _appear_.

If they could gleefully pretend that the comfortable benches had appeared _coincidentally_ , he would extend that same gleeful falsehood to include the sudden appearance of Nori.

 **"We were wondering why you would wander among the lesser folk when you have wares worthy of the highest places of honour within the Market Halls,"** Fláim remarked and Dori was thankful for a lifetime of keeping himself under control and quite prim and proper, otherwise he might have just punched the Dwarf Lord.

 **"Lesser folk?"** Dori asked in a voice that sounded as innocent as Nori did when trying to convince Dori he hadn't done anything wrong as the guards pounded on their front door.

Again.

Dori decided it was a _coincidence_ that Nori was inching his way closer to Dori's stall.

And had nothing to do with the tone of Dori's voice or the way he was tensing.

 **"Those not worthy of being within Erebor properly, regulated out to the outer reaches to scrape by with what the Common Races would not realize they were stooping to buying,"** Eivindur explained.

The Dwarrows fall off into silence at the, frankly appalling, insult that just came from the Dwarf Lord.

Even though the Men do not know Khuzdul, they know their own friends they have made here have been insulted and frown sharply at the Dwarf Lords.

The Men rarely come, but when they do, they always reach out first and take the explanation of haggling rules (mostly the 'don't') very well.

 **"This is not a…regulation, Lord Eivindur. The costs here are equal to some of the High Spots you mentioned,"** Dori corrected.

If they were going to abandon civility, Dori would just barely keep his own.

Both of the Dwarf Lords laughed. **"Surely you jest?"** Fláim said between his chuckles.

**"These do not even rate the poorest of rates. These stalls are _wood_ and are not hewn from the stone!"**

Dori tenses a little. **"The wood works better for my own wares, and wood-carving has always been a skill among the Khazad, or have you forgotten?"**

Nori is inching closer.

Dori decides that being charitable and pretending are a _tad_ beyond him at the moment and just decides not to acknowledge it.

 **"What are you implying?"** Fláim hissed.

 **"Nothing beyond what you yourselves have implied,"** Dori answered, voice hard and as sharp as a diamond.

Now the other Dwarrows of the area are starting to move, but they're inching _away_.

They are from the Blue Mountains. They _know_ Dori.

All have heard of That One Time when Dori grew angry.

They don't wish to _witness_ A Second Time.

The Men are picking up on the atmosphere, but before either Dwarf Lord can speak, another voice enters, "Dori, whatever is the matter?"

Bilbo's voice is gentle and calm and Dori looks immediately to the Hobbit, dismissing the Dwarf Lords in front of him without hesitation.

Bilbo is obviously wearing his brace, the metal coming out from under his trousers and around his heel, and _somehow_ he still makes no sound as he walks. He uses his cane more for balance.

"Nothing that can't be cured with time, my friend," Dori answered softly with a smile, feeling himself relaxing already.

The insults were upsetting, yes, but they weren't pulling Dori into a Rage.

He worked rather hard to keep that _contained_ , thank you very much, and he would like to keep up his streak.

"Well, alright. I came for some yarn, actually. Ori and I have started a knitting circle, as it were, so he can vent over how the Libraries are going," Bilbo explained and Dori nodded, turning to pull out his board of yarn colors when Eivindur says something that goes down in the Histories of Erebor as the stupidest and most foolish thing ever said within Her halls.

**"What is that _thing_ doing here?"**

Dori doesn't… _entirely_ remember what happened after that.

Nori does.

He had gone to relax _just_ as Eivindur had spoken.

Three weeks of constant annoyance and pressure and digs about Bilbo and the trial had already put Dori on edge, and he was just hearing about them second-hand.

Having his compatriots insulted, along with his stall, had nearly pushed him over.

But Dori _liked_ Bilbo. Much like how Nori did.

He was quiet and gentle enough for Dori and sharp and quick enough for Nori and had bridged the gap between them so they could connect on their own once more.

Nori was forever grateful to Bilbo for being the, unknowing, reason he and Dori got along now.

So it hadn't surprised Nori when the direct insult to Bilbo, calling him a _thing_ (more specifically that  _version_ of the word 'thing'), made Dori snap.

Dori was strong. He could crush boulders into dust if given a mind and had a reach to him that Nori also had, where they _stretched_ as they moved, using every centimetre of their bodies to hit their targets.

The punch probably broke Lord Eivindur's jaw and Dori doesn't even have to bump against his stall.

"Mahal save me," Nori grumbled and leapt in to hopefully drag his brother away from the Dwarf Lords when the other…well…

Nori winced as he went down as well and Dori breathed heavily as Bilbo stared down at the two Dwarf Lords.

"I take it they said something insulting Dori?" Bilbo asked in such a light, confused, tone that Dori snapped back out instead of leaping _over_ the stall to beat the Dwarf Lords senseless.

"Oh, dear," Dori said as he stared at the collapsed forms and sighed. "And I had been doing so well, too."

"I think we need tea," Bilbo remarked and Nori wondered over how _calm_ Bilbo sounded now and he had the distinct feeling that he wouldn't have spoken so differently before the Quest either.

"Might be for the best," Dori agreed and they packed up the stall before heading toward Bilbo's apartments.

"I rather think those were the Dwarf Lords I was supposed to avoid," Bilbo remarked.

"Quite. I thought you weren't supposed to go alone?"

"I wasn't alone. Nori was following me the entire way."

Nori resisted the urge to make a sound.

Why were the ones who could _catch him_ always the _taken_ ones?

* * *

 

Bofur was laughing hysterically, the first time he really _laughed_ since Bifur had left with Glorfindel on the Quest to destroy the One Ring, as Nori explained what happened.

Bombur was smiling as well while Elrohir wrote something out, Frodo in his lap.

"Won't Dori get in trouble?" Frodo asked.

"No. They weren't promised greater civility. And I think they're about to learn that," Nori remarked as Bofur, who had started to calm down, broke out into laughter that resulted in him _crying_ while Bombur chuckled.

"Well, alright then," Frodo said and looked at what Elrohir was writing, wrinkling his nose a little at whatever it was.

Elrohir hummed and kissed Frodo's head as he hummed, the music almost…familiar to Nori.

"Best go inform Thorin before the Dwarf Lords get enough of their…well, I'd say wits, but they seem lacking in those so I shall say words, back and go whine at him," Elrohir remarked, just as Bofur had calmed again.

Both Bofur and Frodo broke out into _gales_ of laughter over Elrohir's dry tone and obvious insults.

Nori huffed his own laugh and went to go do just that.

* * *

 

Thorin carefully removed his glasses and sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before he rubbed his eyes, more from stress than strain now. They hadn't ached in some time and his headaches now were just the ones that were from his head, essentially.

"What?" Thorin asked tiredly as he put his glasses back on before he looked up at Nori.

"Dori punched the two Dwarf Lords. That aren't family," Nori repeated.

Thorin sighed and looked over toward Balin, who was covering his face with his hands. "What did they say?" Dwalin asked in a heavy tone, asking what Thorin _really_ couldn't.

"Well, first they insulted all the crafters in the Outer Hall," Nori said and that had Balin's head snapping up.

"They _didn't_ ," Balin protested, likely just out of reflex.

Of all the Dwarrows in the world, Balin was shockingly diplomatic. Even for one who took the rare Diplomacy Craft, a subsection of Wordsmithing, he was. It made a true sense to see that Taken by Craft bead, if they ever got back into the habit of wearing them openly instead of rightly hiding them for fear that Men would cut them from their hair for the precious metal they would see.

"They did," Nori said. "Dori started to calm down a bit though. Snubbed them a little without snubbing, of course. But they weren't buying anything, or even trying to, so he focused on someone who wanted to. And then they insulted him and Dori snapped and punched them."

"What was Bilbo doing down there alone?" Thorin asked, making a sharp guess.

"Why do you think _I_ was there?" Nori retorted and Thorin gave a nod as Nori huffed. "At any rate, that's when they said something stupid."

Dwalin stared at Nori, eyes narrowed. "Yer not saying what they said," he said.

"Because I'm trying to weigh the likelihood you'll march down and murder them," Nori answered far too honestly.

Balin tensed slightly and stood up straight. "What did they say?"

**"What is that _thing_ doing here?"**

Thorin stilled and stared at Nori. Dwalin let out oaths in Khuzdul and Balin inhaled sharply.

While the words, roughly translated, into Westron, wouldn't seem…grave, in _Khuzdul_ it was the word choice that did it.

This 'thing' was the lowest and basest of all. Worse than a vermin or Orc or Elf. It was something that, were this an older, crueler, Age would have been used to describe someone less than a Petty-Dwarf.

"They said _what?"_ Thorin demanded lowly.

"Just that. Dori snapped and punched them. Bilbo kept him from beating them into a bloody mess on the ground though," Nori answered.

Thorin twitched a little.

Considering the cruelty of the insult, he had to wonder at how that worked.

He had to wonder if Dori would be adding a Taken Heart braid and bead and how no one would look twice at that. It happened, sometimes, a Dwarf falling in love with one that was already Taken by another.

Or Held.

Taken and Held, the two sets of beads were rarely used, except in marriage braids.

They _would_ get looks if they put them in their braids and the one they loved was married to another though.

Thorin _knew_ he was letting himself get distracted with these thoughts. "Do we have tri-fold marriages?" Thorin asked, and they stared at him.

"Thorin?" Balin asked and promptly pressed the back of his hand to Thorin's forehead.

Thorin made a sound and yanked his head away. "I let my thoughts wander so as not to lose my temper and senses and go storming down to fight them to the death. But I was thinking on those who Love _more_ than One, and might wish to marry," he mused. "Though I suppose it is too rare."

"I can find something. Though, while it seems to have come out of nowhere, I must admit that it was very effective in preventing the Breaking of Hospitality," Balin said faintly.

"When you have the time Balin," Thorin said as he leveled himself up. "As they provoked the fight, Dori is in the right as he merely punched them. We will…deal with it when they're able to make their way to the Hall of Petitioners like everyone else. I'm _sure_ you can…civilly direct them away and inform them that I see _no one_ without appointment, and Balin please fill that up so they _can't_ make one, except on the days I open up the Hall of Petitioners."

"It is _already_ overfilled, Thorin. It won't be a hardship to enforce it," Balin reassured and Thorin let out a disgusted sound at the reminder of _all the meetings_.

While he didn't complain, he was a King first and foremost, he knew he'd never be able to wear full Political Regalia. He had turned those lessons aside out of necessity. He had to turn to the physical aspects; forge and sword.

He had been unable to spare the time for the political lessons, too focused on making sure their people were fed and clothed and  _lived_ through yet another winter.

He had asked Dís take those lessons in his stead and when asked said he had given her his highest blessings.

"And ask Dís if she can get together Political Regalia," Thorin added.

"That's cruel," Nori remarked as Dwalin gave a low chuckle.

"It is necessary," Thorin corrected and sighed. "Let's go about our business. Nori, go warn Ori. And…keep him from killing the Dwarf Lords. He _is_ his elder brothers combined."

Nori blinked and then his eyes widened before he was rushing off and out of sight.

* * *

 

Elrohir smiled a little and with a final tug had the tiled stitched scene finished and unfurled it, holding it up, not… _entirely_ surprised to see that it was Erebor herself on a Durin's Day with a full moon, catching the gleaming snow and ice.

Elrohir had not put in the secret door, at least, but smiled over the gleaming Mountain and carefully folded it over before he stepped over to the doorway, giving the password before he stepped through. "Bilbo—"

He blinked upon seeing Dori sitting there, the pair with the most delicate tea set between them. "Apologies, I had not realized you were entertaining. I can come back," Elrohir said.

"No, no, come, sit! I see you have finished your scene," Bilbo answered and Dori gave a nod.

"I have. I thought I would give it to you," Elrohir explained and unfurled it once more.

There was a sharp gasp of awe from Dori, while Bilbo made a small sound. "Elrohir, that's _beautiful,"_ Bilbo said quietly and Elrohir smiled.

"Thank you. It can be used both practically and for decoration, however you decide," he answered as he stepped over.

"Master Elrohir, may I?" Dori asked and Elrohir gave a nod to Bilbo.

"Oh. Bilbo, may I?"

Bilbo nodded and Elrohir passed it over before he sat down and began to make his own tea, raising his eyebrow over the delicate little cakes.

Everything about this _screamed_ the need to be careful and gentle.

"Ran into the Stiffbeard and Ironfist Lords?" Elrohir muttered lowly to Bilbo as Dori's Masters in thread work showed through as he began to inspect it immediately.

"Quite. I think they used a rather grievous insult against me," Bilbo answered.

"They do that," Elrohir said with a wrinkled nose. "They said that to my face, while I was in Khazad-dûm. In front of my Heart."

Bilbo's eyes widened. "What did he do?"

"He challenged them to a duel. And won. And then took their beards," Elrohir answered and Dori looked over at that, eyes wide.

"To be fair, I was highly respected, not about to go through a trial, or trust me, Thorin would do the _exact same thing_."

Dori seemed to consider and then nodded in agreement before he carefully folded the scene. "Master Elrohir this…this is as fine as any Dwarven work I've ever seen."

"Thank you. Come, let's enjoy tea and pretend that the unpleasantness of the day has not happened," Elrohir said and Dori nodded in agreement, all three settling in.

* * *

 

Ori found it easy to work with Frodo at the end of a Dwarfling tassel that hung from his waist.

It was one of Ori's line, the Line of Merrí, one of the few Lines, or Houses, founded by a female Dwarf, so it had the shades of pale purple and Frodo held onto it easily as they walked along the lines of one of the Higher Libraries, or Guest Libraries really, chatting about one thing or another.

Frodo was helping to carry some of Ori's smaller things, right until Ori showed him how the tassel could be undone and shifted so it could wrap around Frodo's waist and then he helped carry books while Ori took the scrolls.

"Uncle Bilbo taught me Sindarin and I'm literate in their alphabet," Frodo said as they headed for Ori's little nook.

"Oh, good. We have some Elvish texts. You want to stay—" Ori started to respond only to cut himself off, narrowing his eyes when he saw Nori in his nook.

"Why are you here? And get off my desk," Ori fussed, and his older brother obeyed, while Frodo followed after.

"You have him tied to you," Nori remarked, his tone on _just_ this side of cooing and teasing.

"He can't do his job _and_ hold my hand! And it's silly for me to hold onto his shirt ends like a toddling faunt," Frodo huffed, cheeks puffed out slightly.

"And considering the lack of railings, I can see why these were created. Frodo, would you be overly upset if I tried to find a harness to put on you, just in case?"

"A…harness?" Frodo asked a little skeptically.

"It's like the miner's harnesses they use, just in these colors," Ori explained. "And honestly, yes, just for when we're walking on the pathways. Why don't we have railings, Nori?"

He turned on his elder brother at that in a slight fury and blinked when he saw Nori smiling softly and fondly at him. "What?" Ori demanded, crossing his arms defensively.

"You and Dori. Both did the _exact_ same thing once put in charge of a small child," Nori mused quietly. "But I see what Thorin meant, about you being both of us."

"Nori, you're being silly again," Ori huffed and turned to focus on his work, thanking Frodo. "You want to stay attached or settle at the little desk there?"

"Desk please," Frodo said and Ori nodded, easily untying Frodo and folding the tassel back over properly so it was just hanging from his belt again.

"What brings you down here big brother?" Ori asked.

 **"Something happened in the Outer Markets today,"** Nori said and Ori frowned at him for switching to Khuzdul like that.

Frodo wouldn't be _overly_ upset, but he was smart. He would know that they were talking about things they did not want him to overhear.

Ori gave him a look.

 **"Dori broke his streak. Broken jaw and skull fracture,"** Nori continued.

 **"What did they _do?"_** Ori asked.

Nori sighed. **"Insulted the Outer Craftsdwarrows. And…then called our burglar a…thing."**

Ori gasped and promptly covered Frodo's ears, which startled him a little. "There are little ears!" Ori exclaimed.

"Yes, well, they did."

Ori blinked as it slowly registered. **"Wait. They said our burglar was a _what?"_** Ori demanded.

"And _that's_ why I am telling you now, in hopes that you'll…not finish the job," Nori said.

 **"Who?"** Ori demanded with narrow eyes.

He was going to make them beg for mercy and then refuse to grant it. Instead he would make them continue to _beg_ and _writhe_ in utter _agony_ that would make them think a _Traitor's Death_ would be blissful relief after he was halfway through with them.

"Ori?" Frodo called and Ori looked down and smiled at Frodo before running his fingers through the faunt's hair.

"Sorry. Someone insulted your uncle," Ori said.

"Oh, probably those Dwarf Lords," Frodo said and looked back down at the book he was translating, accurately, to Westron.

Well, that would certainly speed things up for Ori, especially as Frodo was adding notes about the emphasis meaning around it.

Ori didn't miss Nori's flinch though.

**"I cannot believe they did that. They have to realize that even if we can't throw them from Erebor right this minute, they are pushing it to the point that the minute the trial is over, they'll be escorted to their suite, and then thrown out of the Kingdom and banned, if not banished, for their dishonourable conduct, right?"**

**"I don't think they care. They think that this trial is because Thorin feels guilty not, you know, in love with our burglar and wanting to allow him to stay in Erebor. Though, to be fair, he might build him one of the little Hobbit underground houses and have a secret tunnel that goes into Erebor somehow and just get around it that way."**

**"Don't give him any ideas,"** Ori grumbled and turned his focus back to Frodo.

"Yes, it was them," Ori said as he sat down.

"Will they go away now?" Frodo asked hopefully.

"Unfortunately, no. Culture dictates we have to host them still," Ori said with a heavy sigh.

Frodo's nose wrinkled. "Like how at tea time we have to let visitors in?"

"Yes. Exactly."

Frodo made a disgusted noise and focused on the book while Ori made shooing motions at Nori to settle in for his own work, which was translating the Westron words back into written Khuzdul.

They stayed till the Dinner Bells, and Ori tied the tassel back around Frodo's waist before they headed for Bilbo's apartments and a lovely dinner with the entire Company, plus Dáin and an Elf.

* * *

 

Tensions continued to rise in Erebor between Thorin's citizens and the two Dwarf Lords, though they had lulled with one unable to speak due to his broken jaw.

And four missing teeth.

The other had a rather _nasty_ skull fracture that had nearly put _him_ into a coma, as Bilbo put it.

But once Fláim was back on his feet, the tensions got _worse_ to the point Thorin was getting sympathy headaches.

If he didn't know better, he would swear that all the tales he had heard, of when a True King sat within Erebor, they became connected, allowing for the King to know what ailed the Mountain herself before anyone could reasonably know, were _true_.

It was a _long_ month before Eivindur was on his feet as well and then it _really_ ratcheted up to the point Thorin asked Bilbo for calming teas he could drink during Open Days in the Hall of Petitioners and Balin moved things around so Thorin could enjoy the _blissful relief_ of getting his temples and neck massaged to rid the headache down to a low, thumping, headache that he could at least sleep through without medicinal aid.

If Bilbo was unable, either because one or the other Company needed him, or he himself was in agony and barely coherent, Thorin took the medicinal aid though, or he was sure he wouldn't be able to keep his temper _at all_.

He was doing a lot of breathing exercises and destroying of training dummies recently.

So when the Amethyst Month dawned, Thorin was not surprised when all of the tension _exploded_ and he found himself having to deal with it.


	10. Responses and Travelling On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have fun with the hiatus that will follow this chapter as I focus on writing up the Trial and then splitting it. Sadly this was 'quicker' than I expected and I didn't go into the full details of retribution.

The Open Days in the Hall of Petitioners had strict rules.

The first rule was first come, first serve. The second was you forfeited your place in the queue (literally or figuratively, depending) if you made a commotion.

The third rule was that you _did not_ interrupt.

These had been Erebor's rules on the Hall of Petitioners since its _Founding_. When the Hall of Petitioners had also served as the Throne Room, and it was one of the few places that didn't have a gaping chasm surrounding it as well.

These were days of honored tradition and everyone followed them after a sharp reminder of it.

So it was natural that the… _guests_ were the ones to ignore all of these rules and barge through anyway.

* * *

 

Fíli and Kíli were in the Petitioners Hall, sitting on the lower thrones on Thorin's left side, half-wishing they could have stayed with Dori and Frodo in one of the outer rings that had been 'appropriated' for Dwarfling and Faunt playtime.

Of course, they liked…they liked _being here_ as well. They liked the way their mother taught them so they could gain their Political Regalia while they sat with Thorin to learn how to be rulers of their own right.

Kíli might one day decide to go back to the Blue Mountains and keep up, or build back up, the colony of Long-beards there. Or he could stay here and decide to be Fíli's advisor, but both took their studies seriously.

Even if they themselves still were themselves.

Thorin was enjoying a Calming Tea, which wasn't overly helping with his headache.

Maybe he could make a day where the Petitioners met at some high ring or some sort and Bilbo could massage his head while—

No, that was a bad idea.

**"The sheets were pure when I overlooked them, Your Majesty, but only on the top layer,"** the jeweller said, sounding pained and Thorin looked toward the merchant.

**"I was not diligent in checking through all the boxes. They must have redistributed,"** the merchant explained and he almost wilted. **"I…am not fluent in Westron. It is likely they planned in front of me how to rob me. We wanted to bring this before you so I may find a way to reimburse Heindrikur the Jeweler."**

Heindrikur sighed. **"And I do not wish for Gylvi to be beggared for being robbed. I would rather that I get reimbursed for the value of what I received. The two crates of pure sheets—"**

Heindrikur was unable to continue as loud enraged cursing cut through the air and Thorin stood, anger curling in his breast when the two petitioners were shoved out of the way by the two visiting Dwarf Lords.

**"King Thorin!"** Eivindur shouted, but Thorin just moved his hand and guards along the side of the Hall moved forward and grabbed the Dwarf Lords.

**"Place them in the cells for two days. One for interrupting, one for cutting the queue,"** Thorin intoned, ignoring their cursing as they were hauled off.

**"Apologies Heindrikur and Gylvi. I find Heindrikur's solution viable. Redo for two crates of pure and what is leftover for their mixture. They might be useable. In the meantime, Gylvi, I need you to report to a Westron speaker and make out a report and description to be sent to King Bard. If the thieves are still there, it would be best to catch them, and if they will be coming back, to be caught then,"** Thorin said and paused.

**"I will also figure out how to prevent this from happening again,"** Thorin said and turned to Balin. "Balin, we need to put together Westron classes for those who are not fluent or literate. I am…unsure of how to put that together."

"It will be done. After the Trial."

Thorin nodded and turned to the two. **"My apologies. It was not something to discuss properly in the Hall of Petitioners. Please speak to the scribes at the exit door."**

The two Dwarrows bowed and gave their thanks before they moved on and Thorin sat back down.

Thorin was about to call the next one forth when the horns announcing an approaching Lord, or King, blew.

He breathed deeply and turned, giving his nephews a nod. **"Prince Fíli, Prince Kíli, please go greet our guests,"** Thorin intoned.

His nephews gave proper bows, nodded to their citizens, and only then did they hurry out of the Hall of Petitioners.

* * *

 

Kíli frowned as they headed for the gates, which were slowly opening as the drawbridge lowered and he blinked as a four-pony team pulled a sled out of the snow and into the hall. The ponies came to a halt, the Dwarf driving looking rather pleased.

"Hey-oh," the Dwarf greeted with a nod and tied the reins off before he hopped down.

He opened the door and out stepped two more Dwarf Lords. **"Good day and good tidings. I am Blacklocks Dwarf Lord Durthrasir,"** the first who stepped out greeted.

His hair and beard were braided tightly, his hair braided against his skull tightly in rows that allowed his warm brown skin to show, or would have, had there not been tattoos carefully inked between the rows in Khuzdul Cirth. Seven braids, specifically, but he also had seven braids in his beard.

It was his tightly braided beard braids that held the beads of his life. The outer two were his status, and they went in, with the center the Death Braid.

The second Dwarf gave a nod. **"I am the Stonefoots Dwarf Lord, Unna,"** she greeted.

Her skin was a warm golden brown, with hair was as black as Lord Durthrasir's, and was braided back sharply. The two braids that framed her face to show who she was, a Dwarf Lord, the eldest daughter of two, a warrior, a master swordsmith, dangled down but were not braided to the end, instead stopped about halfway down and hair was in a loop at the end.

All of her braids were like that and Fíli and Kíli bowed in greeting. Respectful, not deferential.

Their guards rode in on heavy coated ponies now, already moving to help take care of them. **"Welcome and welcome our hospitality,"** Fíli greeted.

**"If you would follow us please?"** Kíli asked.

The Dwarf Lords nodded and only two guards came over to follow as they headed to the Guest Hall.

They spoke idly, and it flowed more easily. **"Do all Blacklocks braid their beards in the Seven Braids?"** Kíli asked and Durthrasir gave a nod as Fíli visibly kept himself from beating his head against a wall.

**"Yes. Only when the beards can't be grown do they go in the head hair,"** Durthraiser answered.

**"May we speak in Westron? I haven't spoken it in ages,"** Unna asked.

"Of course Your Lordship," Fíli said and Durthraiser chuckled.

"That is because you missed out on the last Guild Meeting," he chided.

"You deal with a political uprising while I deal with the Guild Masters next time then," Unna shot back.

Durthraiser laughed and they walked to the…yeah, still subtly insulting suite.

Thorin was still not happy over them refusing to help him with Erebor.

"Oh, he's calmed down," Unna remarked as they entered.

Kíli blinked as Fíli twitched a little.

Durthraiser nodded. "I thought it would be like that time we had to stay with them in the Blue Mountains and he doubled us up because two of our guards had started a fight," Durthraiser remarked.

"We each have our own room," Unna mused and then smiled at the pair. **"Thank you for guiding us and welcoming us and for your hospitality.** Where will our guards be staying?"

"Just across the way Lord Unna," Kíli reassured with a smile, a little surprised that they already knew of Thorin's reputation.

"Thank you. If you could show the way to our guards?"

Kíli nodded and he and Fíli gave proper good-byes before they slipped out and showed the guards to their rooms across the hallway.

"That went well!" Kíli said cheerfully once they were safely away and Fíli just nodded in agreement.

He still looked like he wanted to bash his head against a wall though.

* * *

 

Thorin sighed, though managed a smile as Frodo rushed up to him, and picked the faunt up as he walked into Bilbo's rooms. "Bilbo?" he called as he walked further in.

"Kitchen! You're early! I wasn't expecting you till dinner!" Bilbo said as he came out and set more plates of delicate little food things on the table, set around more than a few teapots, the cups all just plain white instead of decorated like the other two tea sets Bilbo had, beyond the one he brought with him from the Shire.

Thorin may or may not have asked for them to be found and given them to Bilbo, but the plain cups were a mystery to him.

So were the scones, so many scones with a lot of jams, and possibly butter?

"Elrohir bartered for me in Dale," Bilbo said and then frowned a little.

"Are you alright Thorin?" Bilbo asked softly as Thorin sat down, settling Frodo in a chair between them.

"The…visiting Dwarf Lords did something foolish. Very foolish. And we got two new Dwarf Lords," Thorin explained and frowned slightly. "You should still be using your cane, even with your brace on."

Bilbo huffed and settled to start pouring them tea. "Herbal or black? And it was only a few steps," Bilbo argued as he made Frodo's tea first, along with loading of Frodo's plate with a bunch of small sandwiches, then two types of jams in little bowls with a small knife and plenty of scones.

Frodo grinned and began to dig in with vigour. "Herbal is fine," Thorin answered and sighed. "And thank you for the tea. It helps with the headaches."

Bilbo hummed and pushed another plate of scones toward him, with a knife and a couple of different jam bowls toward him. "Try those, please? And alright," he said with a sigh. "What did they do?"

Thorin hesitated over the idea of trying fruits before he decided that trying it once wouldn't hurt.

He tried the brownish one and made a surprised noise of delight. "It is apples!" he exclaimed with wide eyes.

It was the only fruit he willingly ate.

"Apple butter," Bilbo explained. "What did they do, love?"

Thorin flushed a little at the term of endearment and sighed, accepting the tea, sipping a little, the mix of the herbal tea with honey and the scone with apple butter—

He understood the seven meals now.

"They interrupted petitioners in the Hall of Petitioners," Thorin said with a sigh.

Bilbo almost sloshed his own tea out of his cup and pulled his teapot up. "Excuse me?" he asked, sounding like he _understood_.

He wouldn't have put it past one of his nephews, or the Company…or the horse named Elf, to have said something. "Really. They shoved two of the petitioners away out of the way. They're in the cells now, but I cannot push it off longer than I would push off anyone else's," Thorin reassured.

Bilbo nodded as he worked on his own tea. "Well, what's the usual punishment for that?" he asked.

"Put them on a small trial, figure out why they thought that, hope it goes through quickly, get smacked with a small fine, and released again. The fine goes from community service to serving time to actual coin."

Bilbo nodded. "So do that, after they stew in the cells a bit," he said and Frodo nodded in agreement.

"Sometimes the Mayor does that when tweens do something _really_ silly," Frodo said before he asked Bilbo for more scones, which Bilbo refilled without blinking.

Thorin wondered where all the food went.

He just focused on enjoying the tea and relaxing as he ate what he could.

It felt…nice.

He hoped that Balin was able to get everything to swing it in favour of repealing the Banishment officially, so it could continue beyond the Trial.

Bilbo smiled warmly at him and gave him a sandwich which had what looked like venison in it before he began to have Frodo tell him about his day.

* * *

 

It was a long, _long, **long**_ , day as Thorin put together the trial.

The Company that could help settled in place and Thorin started the simple, internal, trial.

* * *

 

**"We were promised greater hospitality by the prince!"** Fláim finally screamed at the end of it.

Everyone turned to look at Kíli in surprise, who stared at the two Dwarf Lords.

**"I never promised that,"** Kíli corrected. **"I promised you hospitality equal to _your natures_. If you were not treated as you expected, you should possibly look at how you treat others."**

There was silence that followed that and Kíli stared at the open-mouthed Dwarf Lords, eyes distant and dispassionate. **"What?"** Eivindur asked.

**"I only promised you hospitality befitting your natures. Not your standing. Not your blood. Not your deeds or how you perceive yourself. Your. Natures."**

Kíli looked down at them, every inch a Prince of Durin's Line. He was without mercy or guilt over his actions or the way they stared at him. **"Be grateful we are not sentencing you to Community Service. After much debate, it was decided that would just result in the Dwarrows in question strangling you,"** Thorin cut in.

**"Pay your fine and retreat to your hospitality suite,"** Thorin commanded, voice rolling out through the hall before he stood and left the room, not even bothering with an official dismissal.

The others trailed out as well as the Dwarf Lords growled and huffed at the insult of being told to pay a fine as well as being just roughly dismissed without even an official word.

* * *

 

Elrohir finished with his little works and then took up the final ones he would need to.

He went to Bilbo and sat down. "I need the Truth of the Quest from you and through the Battle of Five Armies," Elrohir said quietly and Bilbo paled as Elrohir stared him down quietly.

Bilbo inhaled shakily and nodded weakly. "It all began in a hole in the ground," he said and Elrohir began to dutifully write.

* * *

 

The weak shoots of spring began to push through outside of the village of Rohan that Glorfindel, Bifur, and Théoden had spent the winter waiting when they decided to leave.

They had managed to keep the One Ring secret and Bifur pointed in a direction before they rode off Asfaloth and Snowmane not snapping or fighting as they took off across the snow.

As they came up to the top of a hill, Glorfindel couldn't stop himself from looking over his shoulder, trying to search out the Feeling of the Nine he could still feel creeping up on him before he turned to focus on the road ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's this book series where the Dragon King is the Dragon King, no matter if the dragon is male or female. I cannot, for the life of me, remember the name of the series, but basically, the princess wanted to be captured by dragons so she wouldn't have to get married.
> 
> _Anyway_ , that's the idea I had with the Dwarf Lords. Female? Male? Doesn't matter. Dwarf Lord is the title. Like King. King can be female. It is more to do with the regulation of duties.
> 
> Also, I didn't super describe the other two Dwarrows because one Fíli isn't as observant and was more focused on evaluating their threat level. Two, I don't like them and they are antagonists. So I don't put much description into them. Ole looks like he could be Bifur's dad. (I also had a vague picture of him, so I couldn't describe him better, beyond him having silver hair)


	11. The Final Dwarf Lords and a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, the Trial isn't finished yet, but I realized this wasn't OFFICIALLY part of the Trial.
> 
> So enjoy.

* * *

 

Fláim and Eivindur had taken at least one thing from their trial and promptly decided to isolate themselves away from everyone, which suited the Citizens of Erebor just fine.

By contrast, Durthrasir and Unna put quite a few of the Citizens at ease, wandering politely and worthy of greater civility.

Unna gleefully worked with the Men traders from Dale, explaining a lack of being able to practice her Westron from their location in the distant South-East.

"Traveling in Winter was not fun, but necessary. As it is, we won't be returning until mid-winter," Unna grumbled and they had even met Bilbo.

They mentioned nothing about the Trial, but everyone knew that they were gathering their own opinion on his character when they spoke with him.

Elrohir was usually seen with Bilbo nowadays, along with Frodo when he wasn't with the Dwarflings approximate to his age, and they could count the days over in their heads almost with how by the clock Bilbo was and what it meant when Elrohir came down alone to speak with Dori, who would always quickly pack up his stall and rush off once they were done talking.

* * *

 

Slowly, they moved through the Month of Alexandrite and Thorin felt an increase in headaches, that almost felt like tension headaches.

If Bilbo, or one of his nephews, weren't having a bad day, Thorin went on every break he could manage to tuck close to Bilbo and beg for a head massage, as even the tea wasn't overly helping.

Bilbo got him a different one, which _did_ help, but he had no idea what was causing the headaches.

"At least it isn't eyestrain anymore," Balin offered and Thorin could only grunt in agreement.

Mahal bless eyewear crafters.

* * *

 

"We are going to Minas Morgul," Théoden remarked as they came to a stop.

"Within the Shadowed Mountains. Well done, Bifur. That should most definitely get us through."

Glorfindel sighed and then carefully dismounted. "We should walk from here, however. Minas Morgul is likely where the Nine are to be and it would be best to move as travellers," he said and helped Bifur down before he began to strip Asfaloth's tack and handed the packs over to Bifur to redistribute.

"You don't think it wise to ride a while longer?" Théoden asked.

Bifur shook his head, even as he said something in Khuzdul. "While I am not sure, I have to agree. The Nine have been awoken, Théoden. And that is not something to take lightly. Help me bury the tack. Bifur will mark it so we can find it again."

Théoden hesitated but then moved to follow them in the work, striping Snowman of his tack and packs. Glorfindel actually began to take apart his tack, taking strips of leather that he pocketed before they dumped the tack into the soil, Théoden keeping the metal bit on his person before he turned to Snowmane, who looked unhappy.

"Now it is your turn. You and Asfaloth must take to the plains. Race and be wary, but run free," Théoden said quietly and Snowmane snorted, nuzzling Théoden's cheek before he stepped back.

Asfaloth snorted, but now the ground was almost undisturbed. Bifur wrote something into the ground, nodded and Glorfindel shoved at Asfaloth.

"Noro lim, Asfaloth!" Glorfindel called and Asfaloth turned, nipping at Snowman as he took off.

Snowmane snorted and hesitated, before he too, turned to gallop after his companion.

They stood and watched the horses leave before they took their altered packs and weapons, and began to walk on, Bifur leading the way.

* * *

 

Usually, the Days of Marble Sculpting were more…upbeat, but all of the Citizens had grown, at worst, neutral toward Bilbo over the months he had been there. He just seemed to fit. A little fussy, but Dori was just as fussy and more than one Dwarf knew others who could be the exact same way.

Rude Dwarrows said they were suited to softer crafts.

Intelligent ones didn't comment on that the majority of those fussy ones did end up being in some type of cloth, dyer, or wordsmith craft, but they were also usually the most terrifying.

Sometimes music, like their Crown Prince, but he wasn't _fussy_ like Bilbo or Dori.

…He was more focused fussy over his little brother, which not a single Dwarf of Erebor was going to mention in Fíli's range of hearing if they could help it.

At dusk of the fourth day, Elladan rode back to Erebor.

* * *

 

It was on the third day of Diamond that the horns for an approaching Lord blew once more, and Thorin felt his shoulders slump.

The Trial was soon to begin.

* * *

 

Fíli and Kíli were once more greeting the approaching Dwarf Lords, and they gave a nod toward the approaching Dwarf Lords that rode in a goat-drawn wagon, instead of ponies. The goats snorted and tossed their heads as guards dismounted from the ponies.

Neither Fíli or Kíli were expecting to see Ole break off from the back and head toward the guest stables.

Fíli forcibly focused toward the wagon as the two Dwarf Lords excited.

One had hair the same colour as Bombur's, their, her face massively freckled as she stepped down carefully. Her beard was braided back into her hair, a bit like Dori's, and were used to help create the braids that measured herself. Her hands were as freckled as her face and pale from what they could otherwise see, and her other braids were there, resiting over wider braids so there were almost different levels of braids.

 **"Welcome and be welcomed with our hospitality,"** Fíli greeted warmly as he and Kíli gave respectful bows.

The Dwarf Lord nodded back and helped the brown-haired Dwarf Lord down.

A quick glance quickly said he was a he, and he looked impeccable. His beard braided in loops that were decorated with little charms. His braids were thick over his otherwise free hair. He looked around, calm and quiet and they nodded.

 **"I am the Firebeards Dwarf Lord Austar,"** the brown-haired Dwarf Lord greeted.

 **"I am the Broadbeams Dwarf Lord Hervór,"** the red-haired Dwarf Lord greeted.

 **"Prince Fíli,"** Fíli greeted.

 **"Prince Kíli,"** Kíli added.

They invited them up to their suites, which…were a little better. Likely in reference to the fact it was these two Clans that helped their clan settle in the Blue Mountains.

Though still not extensively nice, neither Lord took offence, thankfully.

They seemed as cheerful as every other Broadbeam or Firebeard they had met, and Fíli was just glad that everyone was here.

As much as he also hated it.

At the end of the Trial…well…

He knew who would be voting 'no', but only because they were irritating.

But everything else was up in the air.

"At least we'll know," Kíli said quietly and Fíli nodded in agreement.

It was the only reason he was relieved.

Soon, the Trial would begin.

* * *

 

"Uncle Ole?" Bofur exclaimed and let out a little yelp as Ole hugged him tightly.

"Bofur! Heard me Lords were comin' so I came along!" Ole greeted and they beat their heads together warmly in greeting.

"Where's Bombur?" Ole asked.

"Over at the Kitchens. Royal Kitchens, specifically. He'll be down later," Bofur answered with a weak smile.

"Not heard anything?" Ole asked quietly.

Bofur shook his head sharply and focused on his stall of toys. "S'not surprisin', really," Bofur muttered and Ole squeezed his shoulder.

"Well, I'm here! If it goes poorly, yer friend will have a friend on his way back, and if it goes well, I've brought ale," Ole said and Bofur chuckled.

"Trust you to be prepared no matter what," Bofur said and Ole nodded before he settled down to help Bofur with the stall.

* * *

 

Elladan stared as Elrohir stepped out of his room.

Every bead was in place. His hair was in six visible braids, the beads well cared for and fully on display. His loose hair was in waves down to his mid-back, and his clothes were of Dwarven feeling, and nice. They were blue and black, with silver embroidery along every cuff and collar. The geometric pattern was unbroken, and probably had a purpose, and the boots were heavier than his usual ones, and two silver charms hung on the side.

"You look somewhat terrifying," Elladan stated.

"Good. I had to remake them, but I am thankful I remembered how my Political Regalia looked," Elrohir answered as he stood, calmly tugging at everything.

"You think it will help?" Elladan asked seriously as Elrohir lifted his fingers up to touch the mithril beads, the ones that marked him as one chosen by Durin.

"Yes," Elrohir answered. "Now I need to get undressed and ready for dinner tonight. And then tonight I'll organize everything, and then figure out when they hope to hold the beginning of the Trial. And then…at dawn, go to the Grand Hall and have it held there."

"What's the Grand Hall?" Elladan asked.

Elrohir stilled. "I…I can't tell you," Elrohir said quietly and Elladan stared before he gave a nod.

"Legolas says hi. His guard is still in love with him," Elladan said.

"Hello Legolas," Elrohir said with a warm smile.

Elladan rolled his eyes at his brother and sighed quietly.

Elrohir slipped back in his room and it was a matter of moments before he was back, his braids hidden away by being hidden in a weird ponytail with the loose hair wrapped over the braids to hide the beads.

He was also carrying an outfit. "What is that?" Elladan asked.

"Something for Bilbo to wear to his Trial. As comfy as Hobbit clothes are, this will help sway the other five Lords to his side," Elrohir said.

"I thought Dáin was going to vote for Thorin?"

Elrohir sighed quietly. "He will _now_. He's been sizing Bilbo up this entire time, trying to figure him out. In fact, until recently, I doubt Dáin was _ever_ going to vote with Thorin. The votes are private, but Dáin is his cousin. He and Thorin are close," Elrohir said quietly. "They… Dáin would not have voted for the Banishment to be rescinded _until_ he was sure Bilbo was a good person. Would be good for Thorin. For Erebor. In that order. The first two combined might overrule the third. We have one aye for rescindment, two nays for rescindment. But we still should make a good appearance."

Elrohir sighed quietly and scrubbed at his face. "It's going to be a _pain_ , but we can get it done. And I'll speak with Dori regarding when it is scheduled for."

"You'll be able to give him his home back, Elrohir."

Elrohir looked over at Elladan and smiled. "I hope so."

Elladan glared a little. "You. Will."

Elrohir smiled and then chuckled, nodding in agreement.

* * *

 

Dori hummed a little. "Why do you want to know, Master Elf?" he asked, eyeing Elrohir suspiciously.

The Dwarf Lords were being…politely wined and dined, essentially. After the first few days, just for the two new Lords to settle, they would move into settling on a date that all eight could agree on one sometime within the Month of the Diamond.

Which was the only reason Thorin wasn't weighing in till later, to try to pick the later of the two.

"So I can make Bilbo dinner the night before and help with organizing Frodo's care," Elrohir answered. "And it's Elrohir, Master Dori."

Dori hummed and then nodded in agreement, noticing the small glint under his hair.

He had beads. Maybe from that rumour-mill of a Dwarf Lover.

An exchange of beads would have been rather…romantic. Dori was surprised he hadn't noticed before, but he had a feeling that Elrohir had been more careful about hiding them, but was relaxing. Back with Dwarrows, he was likely relaxing, not hiding them as well.

"Oh, well, I suppose," Dori agreed and sighed. "They haven't figured out a date yet. But after the fifteenth."

Elrohir's gaze flicked, and then he hummed. "Ten days is a long wait on this. I'm taking it Stiffbeard and Ironfist Dwarf Lords are being their usual selves?"

Dori chuckled. "Their isolation has not ever done them well. And their painfully strict and rigorous adherence to the structure of bloodline and birth has made it so their lowest tiers are slowly leaving their mountains, and then the colonies, and into the other Clan colonies. I don't even think they realize it."

"So the Stiffbeards and Ironfists might suddenly find their little delicate world turned upside down?"

"Quite."

Elrohir chuckled and then stood up. "Alright. Thank you, Dori. Please tell me when you know?"

Dori nodded and Elrohir gave a bow, fist over his heart before he left.

 **"'Oh, I'm just an ambassador' my foot,"** Dori grumbled and didn't hesitate to throw something at Nori's head when he laughed at him.

* * *

 

"Twenty-first of Diamond," Nori said and Elrohir blinked as he looked over at him.

"That's the date of the Trial. Twenty-first of Diamond."

"And you're telling me because?"

Nori tilted his head. "Because Dori doesn't know yet."

Elrohir nodded. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Nori stared at him and Elrohir paused. He glanced around and then turned, fist to heart as he gave a bow to Nori. **"I thank you, Nori, of the Line of Merrí,"** Elrohir said and watched as Nori smirked a little.

"Knew you knew it," he said, then gave a nod. **"And I welcome you, Elf-Knight."**

Elrohir gave a quick smile at the sound of his Elven name made Dwarven. "She did that too," Elrohir said and then turned to leave as Nori made a strangled noise behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed I put King and Lord as different by Dwarf standards as well.
> 
> The Seven Rings were given to the Seven Dwarf Lords, but Durin was not one of them. The Line of Durin just got it because they were a second Line, and the Dwarf Lord ended up in line for the King, which is what happened to all of them, on accident.
> 
> Ironically, the Dwarf Lords and Kings were in agreement of the Rings staying the Dwarf Lords, since that was the intention, but...yeah, that didn't work out.


	12. At the Foot of Cirith Ungol on the Twenty-First of Diamond

Glorfindel let out a quiet sigh as they rested, ignoring how much easier this would have been if they had considered going to get help first.

Then he decided he'd rather not deal with it at all and having to deal with Galadriel or anyone that way and he hummed quietly, eyes closed.

He felt a gentle tap against his foot and he opened his eyes to look up at Bifur.

Bifur grumbled and held his hand out. "I've only had it three days. That's not the agreement," Glorfindel remarked.

"I…think it is because you're bleeding. Or something, because your shirt is a little…stained," Théoden remarked and Glorfindel blinked before he slowly looked down.

He stared and then he noticed a tiny twinge of pain against his chest.

He cursed in Quenya and promptly yanked off the necklace and the One Ring, opening his shirt to reveal that _it had been burning into him_.

He cursed the One Ring out in Quenya, again, and panted as he leaned back, ignoring how he had the damn echo of it burned into him now. "I swear, I will wring that bastard's neck," he hissed quietly.

Bifur made an enquiring sound. "I've been here since he first created it, Master Bifur. Well, sent back. Right after he put it on. It was Aulë himself who asked if I would put myself forward to be re-embodied. It is his Maia that became Sauron, unfortunately," Glorfindel answered quietly and Bifur suddenly sat down, looking intently at him.

He noticed that Théoden was as well and Glorfindel chuckled but held the One Ring out to Bifur. "Tuck it away and see if you can keep it from hearing us," Glorfindel said quietly as he settled back. "I'll tell you a bit about it."

Bifur nodded and soon it was tucked away and out of sight. "You too, Théoden," Glorfindel said and sighed.

He thought back along his long, _long_ , life. His death and return.

"You know the tale of the Elf Lord who got his hair caught by a Balrog and died?" Glorfindel asked and Bifur chuckled and nodded.

"That was me," Glorfindel said and laughed when Bifur tugged at his hair, almost chidingly.

"I like my hair long. And the only thing the story omits is the fact I was already dying. You don't…Balrogs are…only Ecthelion has ever killed so many and not perished. And he still needs to rest and repair, because he practically tore his soul asunder to do so. As it was, he was barely holding onto life and lost his sword, which has been found by a Dwarf King now," Glorfindel said quietly. "He was already dying. But a Balrog is a corrupted Maia. Ecthelion nearly Killed himself _completely_ doing as he did and it is only through the Will of the Valar that he was able to even rest. He had only been out a year when Aulë asked for me to request to be the one."

Glorfindel sighed. "He knew I'd agree, too. It was only Aulë who told me that it was Mairon. The heartbreak in his eyes…"

He sighed quietly and Bifur gave a tug. "Mairon was Sauron's old name. Aulë…he was Aulë's Maia. Aulë held all his Maia like the Children of his Heart, as much as you Dwarrows are his children. He is furious over the betrayal, of course, he is, but…"

Bifur said something and nodded in understanding while Théoden stared at Glorfindel in shock.

"Anyway, I agreed. And then it all happened and I came back in the Second Age with Ecthelion yelling at me and with Asfaloth and I've been here since. Aulë is why I do this now. Manwë chose me in the end because Thorondor spoke up for me to go."

Glorfindel huffed and Bifur nudged him. "What?" Glorfindel asked and Bifur nudged again.

"Alright, fine, _yes_ , Aulë may have adopted me a little!" Glorfindel huffed and laughed when Bifur suddenly hugged him and, carefully, tapped his forehead to Glorfindel's.

"Yes, yes, just don't go spreading it around. I like not being tackled by random Dwarrows."

"You've been around since _the Second Age?"_ Théoden asked in a strangled voice.

Bifur chuckled and Glorfindel nodded in agreement.

"I have," Glorfindel agreed and thought about Mairon, and how that betrayal stung him too.

At least he hadn't been in love with the Maia, and the friendship had been brief, but it still stung.

Glorfindel sighed and shook his head a little. "Let's relax and then move on. As fun as going over your _ancient history_ is, and how old it makes me feel, we do need to get on. I don't want to be on the road this close to Minas Morgul," he said and Théoden nodded in agreement.

Bifur huffed and nodded.

They rested another few minutes before they got to their feet and continued walking.

* * *

 

Bifur walked along calmly, feeling for that path and the broken directions he had heard that Orc say once.

Or maybe it had just come through the axe lodged in his head.

Bifur didn't overly question it, just went with how he _knew_ where to go, and now knowing that Mahal's Maia had been the one to make this, it felt… _right_ that a Khuzd was part of this, all the way to the end.

_I could give you back your gift of Languages. I could expand upon it. Nevermore would you be trapped to your secret tongue. Once again you could speak with those outside of your own Race._

The Deceiver's promises almost made Bifur laugh.

No, no, he would never gain back his gift of languages. Were he to give this Ring to the Deceiver, all he would earn was the Black Speech.

He had a feeling that the Ring was throwing a temper tantrum over not being able to entice him into betraying his fellows.

Bifur rolled his eyes again and reached over to grab Théoden with Glorfindel and they both dragged him over, across the road, away from the crumbling bridge, and toward where the Mountains of Shadow rose above them.

Théoden promptly cursed in the language of Rohan.

Quite creatively too.

"You can't be serious," Théoden said quietly as he stared at the stairs that went straight up above their heads.

 **"I could be foolish, but I prefer to leave that to my cousin. Up you get,"** Bifur retorted.

Glorfindel gave a quiet laugh. "I think he's telling you to start climbing," he said and Bifur gave a shrug before he nodded.

Théoden cursed them both again but started to climb, and Glorfindel went after him. "There's a spot to rest, correct?" Glorfindel asked, already climbing.

 **"Yes,"** Bifur answered, which was one of two words he taught Glorfindel if only for times they couldn't see each other.

"Oh, good, because otherwise, we'd be in a great deal of trouble."

Bifur couldn't agree more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, I don't think Sauron is going to get to just die. He basically gets to go on trial for being a Betrayer and Kin-Slayer after he gets dropped into the Halls of Mandos, and I might do a side-skip over there for fun when he realizes what he's about to go face.


	13. On the Twenty-First of Diamond

Elrohir rose with a deep sigh and then got dressed, promptly putting his braids in order and making sure he looked perfectly put together. He then grabbed Bilbo's clothes and headed through to the other room.

Bilbo was up and, thankfully, not dressed yet, while Frodo sat looking worried. Elrohir smiled and carefully held out the clothes, but Bilbo was staring at his head.

"Elrohir," Bilbo said quietly.

"Love again calls for me to bring them out," Elrohir said. "Now go get changed. After breakfast, we have to go to our chosen Trial Hall."

"I still can't believe there is more than one. How is that _efficient?"_ Bilbo asked.

"You have two in the Shire!"

"For Mayor and for Thain, that does not count!" Bilbo argued, even as he walked over to his bedroom slowly to go get changed.

Elrohir smiled and shook his head at Frodo. "Time for breakfast," Elrohir said and scooped Frodo up as he carried him into the kitchen to make them something with eggs.

"You were a Dwarf hiding as an Elf," Frodo pouted.

"No, not really," Elrohir answered. "Remember when I said I broke a vow? Well, I promised one of my best friends that I would watch over his son till the day he died. And…I didn't."

"Why?"

Elrohir exhaled shakily. "He told me to go," Elrohir answered. "And so I did, without a fight."

Frodo frowned, forehead furrowing and Elrohir pressed a kiss there. "But, no more of this! It is time to focus on food," he said and promptly focused on that as well.

* * *

 

Óin itched to go back to the Shire, to Lily and Took-Bank and to see about how Hobbits courted and try his hand at that as well as Dwarf courting, but not till he knew how his friend would fare.

It was a good hour after breakfast before he made his way up to Bilbo's suite, huffing a little at the distance, and how it wasn't good on his old bones.

They would be down a Teller, which was unfortunate but had to be done. Bifur had to go and deal with that One Ring business, after all. Right he should be too, considering how the Deceiver had, well, Deceived _them_.

Óin huffed a little as he came upon the door of Bilbo's suite and knocked. He waited patiently and after a time wondered if he hadn't knocked loud enough.

That was a problem on occasion with him.

He waited a little longer, mentally counting out the seconds until he reached another two-minute mark and then knocked harder.

This time he counted to the one-minute mark and the other Elf, Elladan he believed, answered the door. "Oh, Master Óin!" he greeted at the perfect pitch and tone to be heard.

Thank goodness.

"Aye. I'm here to collect Bilbo," Óin said and he saw Elladan pause.

"Lad, I know it is a bit early, but it might be best to help him prepare. Balin's—"

"That's not why I am pausing, Master Óin," Elladan said, or probably.

Óin missed a couple of words, but he could fill in the blanks.

"What is it? As a Healer, I can write off he can't show today if it is a bad day," Óin reassured.

Elladan shook his head and sighed. He began to thunk his head against the door in the same way Óin did because Glóin had done something stupid.

He then stood up and looked at Óin. "Master Óin, I'm afraid my brother has _already_ taken Bilbo to his Trial."

Óin frowned. "How? The room hasn't even been chosen yet!" Óin exclaimed and Elladan shrugged.

Óin paused and then his eyes widened. "I thank you, lad! I must be off!" Óin exclaimed and turned to rush away, now concerned that the Stiffbeards or Ironfist Lords had done something to trick Bilbo into being at a disadvantage.

* * *

 

"Uncle Elladan?" Frodo called cautiously as Uncle Elladan shut the door and Uncle Elladan turned, eyebrows lifted to show his surprise at the title.

Frodo felt his face heat and he wiggled slightly in his seat. "Do you not like it?"

"No, I like it, dear one. What's on your mind?"

"Uncle Elrohir isn't going to get Uncle Bilbo in trouble, is he?" Frodo asked, slightly embarrassed that he had brought up his feelings so bluntly like that still.

"No, but he's going to get _himself_ into trouble," Elladan said with a sigh. "Ah well, what is done is done. Don't worry. Your Uncle Elrohir will help Uncle Bilbo keep his home."

Frodo grinned back. "Good. I like it here too!"

Uncle Elladan nodded and hugged Frodo. "Good," Uncle Elladan said and then swept into the kitchen to make him Second Breakfast.

* * *

 

Elrohir walked calmly as he leads Bilbo through the back passageways, some filled with dust, some not, and down into Erebor. As they walked, he couldn't help but touch the walls and frowned a little at the way he could sometimes _swear_ he saw little flashes and sparkles of light.

Bilbo didn't seem to notice, however, and instead was looking around in amazement at what he could see. "Even after all this time, they've not been able to fix it all?" Bilbo asked.

"Time is the one type of damage that is not easily fixed, Bilbo," Elrohir answered with a warm smile. "Not even Khazad-dûm will be an easy fix after all this time. On top of whatever the Orcs and Goblins and that one Balrog did, time will have worn away much of what was."

It was a sad thought. But one day, they would return.

One day, Durin would sit on his throne one final time.

 _One day_.

He breathed deeply and they continued down. A glow began to grow around them and Elrohir smiled to see the few Sun and Moon globes that had survived Khazad-dûm's fall were alighting above them in the Main Hall toward the Grand Trial Rooms. "We're going the right way," Elrohir said softly.

"And where are we going? And why will it be better than the one Thorin will want to use?" Bilbo asked.

"It is the Grand Trial Hall. It is unique to Erebor alone, in some ways, and it is the one place you could not voice your own defence because it _must_ be said in Khuzdul. Which is why I got your version _before_ the last of the Dwarf Lords arrived," Elrohir answered quietly and he pushed open the door for the defence and they found themselves in a suite.

It was cleaned and ready for habitation, more or less. Thankfully Elrohir would be able to have Nori bring something, but it was there.

It had furniture and a clean kitchen. Elrohir pulled his pack off his back and held it out to Bilbo. "All for you. This way, your friends can visit you, so long as they don't ask about the Trial or anything like that," Elrohir said and Bilbo smiled before he limped off to go put his clothes away.

Elrohir's pack was much smaller and mostly just held under clothes to help keep the Political Regalia clean during all of this.

"Tell me when you're ready, and then we can go settle out there and announce our presence," Elrohir said.

"Who would we tell?"

"The Raven that's assigned to here. Or one of them. A time-honoured tradition they will have likely upheld since the Reclamation of Erebor," Elrohir answered easily.

There had only been one held here under Elrohir's time, but it had been a terrifying one.

An assassin who wanted clemency and had barred himself in the defence suite.

He lived, but was banished out of Erebor for the attempt, but not from Dwarven Kingdoms or otherwise shamed.

Poor lad, really.

It had been the _one time_ Elrohir had given advice to Thorin without prompting while he was King.

Mostly because otherwise the lad might have been put to death.

He hadn't even _been an adult_.

Elrohir shook his head sharply, clearing his memory and instead pulled out the defence papers from the bottom of his bag.

It was a few minutes and tea which Elrohir was able to stock down here alone before Bilbo nodded.

"I'm ready," he said and Elrohir nodded.

Once he was sure they were both presentable, Elrohir carefully pushed open the door and there they stepped onto the Dais of the Defence, across from the Dais of Erebor.

The Raven perched right by the Dais of the Defence let out a startled sound and beat their wings.

Elrohir guided Bilbo to sit before he set his folders down on the table in front of them and focused on the Raven.

 **"Please inform Thorin King Under the Mountain, the Seven Lords of the Seven Folk, and the Bearers of the Tales that Bilbo Baggins, Luck-Wearer, Spider's Bane, and Thief of the Arkenstone, is readied below in the Grand Trial Hall for his Rescinding of Banishment Trial,"** Elrohir intoned evenly in Khuzdul and Bilbo let out a sharp sound of surprise.

The Raven stared and then gave a bow.

 **"Yes, Lord of the Defence, as you say, so shall Logi carry,"** the Raven, Logi, answered, and promptly flew off.

"Now, we wait. Stay seated until I wave at you, however, and…do not speak. I'm risking enough using Westron here," Elrohir answered and Bilbo nodded, swallowing harshly.

Elrohir gave him a reassuring smile and then focused forward and remembering to _breathe_.

* * *

 

Thorin…may have been in a small panic.

When Óin had come to them, saying Elrohir had already brought Bilbo to his Trial, Thorin began to panic.

Balin was still trying to figure out the best one to use, having ruled out the Great Trial Hall from the beginning on the fact that Bilbo would be unable to voice his own case there.

Westron could not be spoken in the Hall within confines of the Trial.

It was said Erebor _herself_ would end the Trial if that Rule were broken, though Thorin had no idea _how_.

Maybe a spell?

About twenty minutes after Óin had told them about Bilbo being taken away, for a moment, Thorin stopped panicking.

He had…calmed, almost, relaxed, and then he promptly panicked again.

That was…most unusual. And now he almost felt like…

Right, worry about strange feelings obviously not his own later, panic about Bilbo now.

After _another hour_ of panicking and debating how much it would Break Hospitality to just flat out demand Dwarf Lords Fláim and Eivindur where they had stashed Bilbo that Logi of the Great Trial Hall swooped in and landed on his perch.

He paused for a moment and then clutched tighter to his perch. **"Thorin King Under the Mountain, the Seven Lords of the Seven Folk, and the Bearers of the Tales, the Lord of the Defence requested that I inform you that Bilbo Baggins, Luck Wearer, Spiders' Bane, and Thief of the Arkenstone is Readied Below for you."**

Thorin stared, as well as the Company in attendance.

"Who?" Thorin asked and Logi opened his beak for a beat, then closed it.

For a long moment, Logi was obviously lost and then he looked at Thorin. "A Legend," Logi answered almost _reverently_.

* * *

 

Thorin gathered everyone and then they went down. The globes that had been rescued from Khazad-dûm were already light as they walked down, Fláim and Eivindur practically _jubilant_ over the fact the trial was being held in the Great Trial Hall.

Thorin pushed on the door and it opened soundlessly before them and if Thorin wasn't King he would have stopped dead in shock.

Fláim and Eivindur certainly did when they saw Elrohir standing there, in Durin Political Regalia, bearing Dwarven, _mighty_ Dwarven braids, Bilbo sitting next to him.

He waved his hand and Bilbo stood, both bowing to them. Elrohir only did a subtle push to have Bilbo bowing a little deeper so they were both proper before they stood. **"Hail, Thorin King Under the Mountain, the Seven Lords of the Seven Folk, and the Bearers of the Tales. Lord Elf-Knight, formerly of Khazad-dûm, formerly of the Kingdom Under Erebor, recently of Rivendell, Blood-Brother of Durin, named so by the Sixth of his Name, Shield Brother to Náin, First of His Name, and Heart-Father to Thráin, First of His Name, I greet you."**

Thorin could feel the shock in the room, feel it in the very _silence_.

But in the back of it all, he also felt _triumph_.

(And very distantly, and not his, a _lot_ of almost _childish glee._ )


	14. Continuing the Twenty-First of Diamond

Elrohir gestured for Bilbo to sit once everyone else had sat, somewhat amused by the fact that they had barely remembered their manners. Bilbo was nervous, naturally, but Elrohir had come prepared and he set paper out, along with a quill.

 _Don't worry, everything will be fine,_ Elrohir wrote in Westron and Bilbo let out a sigh of relief.

Elrohir set the quill down properly and waited.

 **"Lord Elf-Knight,"** Thorin intoned and Elrohir gave a nod of greeting.

 **"Thorin King Under the Mountain,"** Elrohir answered. **"We must begin, Your Majesty."**

Thorin gave a nod and took his seat, which was as Overseer.

Beyond providing answers for both the Lords or Defence, he would be unable to interfere. Elrohir watched and waited as they tried to get back into the proper swing of things, Elrohir far more patient than they were shocked.

Theoretically speaking.

He once outlasted Durin, which took three days, cookies, and a had him completing his first Mastery.

Seven Dwarf Lords, war-hardened or not, were _nothing_ in comparison.

He waited and Bilbo eventually settled as well, likely likening it to having to outwait his greedy relatives.

Which, to be fair, was exactly what it should be.

 **"Lord Elf-Knight,"** Dáin began.

 **"Longbeards Lord Dáin,"** Elrohir answered.

Dáin cleared his throat slightly. **"As the Lord of the Defence for Bilbo Baggins…Luck Bearer, Spiders' Bane, and Thief of the Arkenstone, you may present,"** Dáin said.

 **"Just one moment!"** Fláim screeched. **"How do we know this is true?"**

He was met with more than one incredulous stare at that.

Elrohir just fixed him with a disappointedly annoyed one.

 **"He could have stolen those beads!"** Eivindur added.

 **"If anyone even _attempts_ to touch one of my beads, they will have no hands. I only gave one warning, and that was to Nori of the Line of Merrí, and _only_ because Bilbo Baggins, Luck Bearer, Spiders' Bane, and Thief of the Arkenstone holds him as a friend. He does not hold you as such,"** Elrohir warned in a tone that spoke of his intent to _not_ make it a kind or clean cut.

 _That_ got those two Dwarf Lords to immediately sit back and shut up.

 **"Were these beads a Lie, you all know, as well as I, that I would be dead for it,"** Elrohir continued, going back to idly neutral and distant.

He could see Nori starting to noticeably resist collapsing into hysterical laughter.

Elrohir waited as the other Lords just continued to stare Fláim and Eivindur down before Dáin focused on him. **"Lord Elf-Knight, proceed,"** Dáin said.

Elrohir nodded and exhaled quietly.

 **"Seven Lords of the Seven Folk,"** Elrohir greeted. **"I am the Lord of the Defence, Elf-Knight. I shall begin with the opening statement that Bilbo Baggins did join the Company of Thorin Oakenshield not for promises of riches, of adventure, or anything he may have told the Dwarrows themselves, but for _them alone_. Before he called them a friend, and he did not even know the true position he held in the Quest. For Outsiders, yes, he was to be the Burglar, but within the Company and to all Dwarrows, he was the Luck Bearer. He was the one that brought the Unlucky 13 to the Lucky 14.**

**"He continued to travel with them, even when he was ostracized and excluded. He travelled with the Company of Thorin Oakenshield and did not falter except for once under extreme circumstances, circumstances told by Bofur of the Line of Vilmundur, and even Thorin King Under the Mountain himself. Upon _falling several hundred feet_ , he then made his way out _to the Company_ and rejoined them. And then proved himself once and for all in the physical defence of Thorin King Under the Mountain.**

**"Bilbo Baggins Loyalty was without question, through Mirkwood and Thranduil's dungeons. He rescued them at _great risk of life_ , and without thanks or recognition beyond being told it wasn't good enough. For some reason, he continued to be loyal to them, and carried on and up and through, Riddled with Smaug the Calamity, and when Dragon Sickness, influenced heavily by Ring Sickness, pulled at Thorin, it was still a last resort that he stole the Arkenstone _out to Bard_ , and Bard alone, quite surprised by Thranduil's presence, and there bartered for his share and then…he told Thorin King Under the Mountain it was him, so no other would fall under Thorin King Under the Mountain's paranoid and Sickness-fueled gaze."**

Elrohir paused for a long moment and breathed. **"The core of my defence is, unfortunately, ignorance, yes. Ignorance on many levels and from many quarters, starting with the greatest. The Arkenstone is _not_ an Artifact of the Line of Durin, but an Artifact of _Erebor_ , and from there the ignorance on both sides, for Bilbo Baggins was not alone. Are there any objections, Seven Lords of the Seven Folk?"**

The Seven Lords sat back to discuss and then Dáin gave a nod.

 **"There no objections to the Core of the Defence, or what is held. The Trial will officially commence after Lunch,"** Dáin intoned and Elrohir bowed.

 **"I thank you, Longbeards Lord Dáin,"** Elrohir said and gently touched Bilbo's arm.

Bilbo bowed and they drifted back out to the Defence Suite.

* * *

 

"You're _Durin's Blood Brother?"_ Balin almost half-shouted as Elrohir opened the door.

Elrohir was staring at him, though he was in the still barely respectable undergarments, the braids were still prominent. "You could have brought lunch," Elrohir remarked. "And that comes shockingly close to things regarding the Trial. Who is checking on Elladan and Frodo?"

He stepped back to let the Company in, and Balin hurried in to follow after him, wanting a few answers. Nori, however, stepped around and handed Elrohir a rather large basket. "Here you go. We'll come back with more," Nori said as he stepped around.

"Really? You couldn't have brought this up?" Balin asked as Elrohir began to make lunch while the rest of the Company focused on Bilbo.

"No," Elrohir answered. "It isn't…I haven't talked about this since after the foundation of Erebor."

Balin noticed that he looked uncomfortable and was very focused on Lunch.

Balin hesitated and then sighed before he walked over, before he paused, and then covered his face.

He was _talking to one of Durin's Ones_.

He decided not to let Thorin in on that as he sat with Bilbo and asked about what he thought of a garden on a mountain.

* * *

 

Dwalin sat in the Grand Trial Hall and stared at Elrohir who was just staring the Ironfist and Stiffbeards Dwarf Lords down with a particularly annoyed look.

 **"It is too late to claim argument against the chosen core of the Defence!"** Dáin argued.

Dwalin had to agree. When there was an argument, they had to present before it was accepted.

Now Elrohir just seemed content to wait them out, sitting next to Bilbo, the pair writing back and forth.

**"They…they're conspiring!"**

**"Bilbo Baggins, Luck Bearer, Spiders' Bane, and Thief of the Arkenstone, is unable to understand or speak Khuzdul. Due to the Laws, the only way we can communicate is through the written word,"** Elrohir stated. **"You are, of course, allowed to come over here and read it if you wish, Lord Eivindur, Lord Fláim."**

There was dead silence, and Dwalin can hear the other members of the Company choking their laughter because that is a beautiful insult.

Everyone knows neither can read, speak, or in any way understand Westron.

The other Dwarf Lords were not so subtle, chuckling along with it and Elrohir wrote an answer to whatever Bilbo had asked before he stood.

 **"Your disrespectful actions are slowly dragging you into having to sit a Trial after this one in regards to your own Banishment from Erebor,"** Elrohir warned, and he's so very right.

The Laws of Hospitality can only be pushed so hard before there's a backlash and they're getting terrifyingly close to it.

There was more silence and the two Dwarf Lords sulked before Dáin nodded and they went into the Trial.

* * *

 

Glorfindel and Bifur stared at the cave that was covered in spiderwebs.

"You have firesteel?" Glorfindel asked, breathing heavily from the hard climbing, the brief fighting they had done with some Orcs that had been on the path for some _Mahal forsaken reason_ , and they had rationed _hard_ so they could get to Mount Doom, which was a nice, long, hard march away from them.

Most likely.

 **"Yes,"** Bifur answered.

"What's wrong?" Théoden asked.

"Oh, there's just a giant spider ahead of us, so we're going to set their lair on fire," Glorfindel answered.

 **"Oh, yes. I am all for setting them on fire. I still haven't forgiven the ones in Mirkwood for capturing us,"** Bifur grumbled.

"Okay, that's something personal from the growling," Glorfindel remarked. "Anyway, they were probably this one's offspring."

 **"Then I _definitely_ want to set her on fire,"** Bifur growled.

Glorfindel chuckled and then drew out his knife, pulling leathers out. "Go back a bit, ready your spear, and look up, down, and around," Glorfindel said.

"We're going to fight a giant spider?" Théoden asked.

"Well, hopefully not," Glorfindel answered and carefully held out the leather straps, then began to cut strips of cloth off his clothes.

Bifur began to tie the leathers a bit. He tied the cloth strips on the leather straps and then began to work on setting them on fire. Glorfindel took the first and swung it around before he threw it in, and it landed, catching and racing off through the webbing.

They did the same until _clouds_ of smoke began to pour out and Glorfindel rushed back down with Bifur, all three taking watch. Soon Bifur could hear screeching and screaming and then out rushed a _much larger than the Mirkwood spiders_ spider.

She screeched and upon seeing them raced toward them, sparks flying from her as she charged. "Spears _up_ ," Glorfindel called as he ducked down and Théoden braced.

Bifur crouched and when she came for them, he stabbed up, catching on her stinger which she seemed to be trying to use first on them.

Stab, dodge.

Parry.

Stab.

She chittered and tried to get the drop on them, but all three were too prepared for that.

Glorfindel sliced.

The leg went out from under her and she screeched, stumbling.

Glorfindel grabbed Théoden, yanking him out of the way, and a foot caught his face. She sliced, and there was blood.

Bifur twisted and stabbed her in the eyes.

Stab. Parry. Knockdown.

Finally, there was an opening and both Bifur and Théoden drove the giant spider into death off the edge of the cliff. She fell and then _splattered_ on the ground, innards everywhere.

"Well, she's dead," Glorfindel said. "Damn claws."

Bifur carefully tugged him down and, carefully, cut his own sleeve so he could help clean it off as much as they were able.

"We'll have to wait for the smoke to clear before we can continue."

Bifur nodded and stared at the smoke and raised an eyebrow as more screams echoed out.

"Oh, and battle. We _might_ not have thought this through as well as we should have," Glorfindel remarked.

 **"I rather the spider be executed,"** Bifur grumbled.

"Will we be able to take them?" Théoden asked.

"Probably," Glorfindel answered as he rested. "But that's going to be burning for a while. Hopefully, they'll just blame each other?"

**"There were those unexpected Orcs. It could be they were patrolling and will blame the dead ones."**

"Assuming that's dealing with the dead Orcs," Glorfindel murmured and they watched the smoke curl toward the sky.

Bifur nodded and Théoden collapsed slightly in his own exhaustion.

Bifur blinked when a moth came to land on Glorfindel's shoulder. He hummed and carefully picked it up before he seemed to speak with the moth and then sent the moth flying back and away from them and the smoke that continued to billow up into the sky.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're getting closer to Mt. Doom.
> 
> And yes, Shelob's lair was just set on fire.


	15. And to the Seventh of Opal and the Final Defence

It was long.

They were called to clarify one point or another.

It was embarrassing at points, having their faults laid before them against Bilbo, and Elrohir expertly wove together a tapestry of the Quest.

Bilbo's faults were there as well, and Gandalf's were also laid bare.

Each day was dedicated to a part of the Quest, and slowly, they went from Bag-End to Lake-Town. It dragged and it was exhausting.

Dori's Telling was postponed on a day Bilbo was unable to attend, but both were excused on a shocking 5-to-2 Vote on it and Elrohir continued on.

Finally, came Bilbo's Telling, and they moved _beyond_ the Quest of Erebor, and into the Actions at the Gate.

It had been a _long_ thirteen days.

Frodo and Elladan had come down once so Frodo could visit with Bilbo during one of the recesses and Frodo had run gentle fingers over Elrohir's braids and beads.

And then, on the Sixth of Opal, a Day of Recess was called forth so the Final Defence could be called and they were all twisted up, wondering on that final push.

* * *

 

This was the part that Elrohir had…not really been looking forward to.

The spearhead of his defence was the Battle of Five Armies and Bilbo's Actions through it.

It would be time for _everyone_ to learn about Bilbo's contribution to the Battle and his hand in the Death of Azog the Defiler.

* * *

 

Thorin watched as they stepped out.

Elrohir helped Bilbo to sit down and gave a small nod.

He tugged at his coat, and next to Thorin, Dís gave a small huff. **"I wanted to embarrass Fláim and Eivindur,"** she grumbled and Thorin resisted the urge to chuckle.

 **"So did we all, little sister, so did we all,"** Thorin reassured as Elrohir stood, patiently waiting for everyone to get settled.

 **"Seven Lords, Thorin King Under the Mountain, Carriers of the Tales, and Princess Dís, it comes time for the Final Defence,"** Elrohir said. **"The Final Defence lies within the Battle of Five Armies."**

He stood a little straighter. **"It begins with Bilbo Baggins being told by Gandalf the Grey to remain within the safety of Dale, and how he defied that for the Love of Thorin, and the Company that had become his Family."**

Elrohir took a deep breath again.

**"Bilbo Baggins, Luck Bearer, Spiders' Bane, and now Thief of the Arkenstone, went into battle. Within that battle, he fought through Orcs and Goblins, made Unseen by the One Ring, that lead to the increased Sickness within Thorin King Under the Mountain, having to watch for Allies and Foes alike as he made his way across the battlefield to Thorin King Under the Mountain's side."**

There was a moment then.

**"Across the battlefield, he fought until he came upon a scene that still haunts his nightmares. In this scene, Azog the Defiler stood above Thorin King Under the Mountain, and Fíli and Kíli, Princes Under the Mountain. He had already felled them, and they lay around, almost broken and near death. It was then that Bilbo removed the One Ring, and got Azog the Defiler's attention.**

**"Sting in hand, a helmet in the other, he flung it at Azog's head. It hit his shoulder and Azog came toward him. They danced a dance of death and when Bilbo plunged his blade, Sting, into Azog's chest, it went right up into his heart. For a moment, it was a victory, and then the mace continued the arc into his leg.**

**"It shattered upon the impact and they fell to the ground, twisting it further, breaking the finer bone behind the shank bone and still it continued onward, trapped in the mud. With the Banishment still on his head, and with little to hold him here except his Family, he _caused himself pain and agony_ and left. He punished himself. He did not clarify. He refused. That is on him.**

**"He killed Azog the Defiler, and never told a soul until I pried it out of him, and even then he almost did not tell me. He fought for his Family and his Heart. And that is all there was to it. Bilbo was ignorant of the marching upon the Mountain for the Gold by the Men and Elves. He was ignorant of the Arkenstone's full weight. The Company was ignorant of the weight of Banishment for Hobbits. The Company was ignorant of his slaying of Azog.**

**"Ignorance caused much pain. It should not cause anymore."**

Elrohir let out a sigh and nodded. **"The Final Defence has been made,"** he said and then he sat down, staring up at the Seven Dwarf Lords with unwavering surety and serenity.

Dáin gave a nod.

 **"The Court will reconvene in two hours, and from there the Vote for the Trial will be cast and read,"** Dáin intoned and Elrohir bowed in his seat as the Seven Lords rose and retreated to do just that.

* * *

 

"It'll be fine, love," Bilbo tried to reassure as he did his best not to hiss through his teeth or wince over the agony that throbbed through his leg.

Thorin was pacing around in the Defence Suite.

"I…it…" Thorin paused and looked at Bilbo. "Why did you not tell anyone of your deeds on the field of battle?"

Bilbo winced a little. "It…he was your kill. Your fight. I…I had taken something else from you," Bilbo whispered, shoulders hunching slightly and he blinked in surprise when Thorin was suddenly there, kneeling in front of him.

"Amrâlimê, you took _nothing_ from me," Thorin said quietly as he leaned up to press his forehead to Bilbo's. "My beautiful amrâlimê."

"What does that mean?"

"It's romantic."

"But what does it _mean?"_

"My love."

Bilbo felt his face heat and he pressed his forehead more against Thorin's.

"My love," Bilbo echoed quietly.

* * *

 

Bilbo did his best not to shuffle nervously in his seat as the Seven Dwarf Lords returned.

They walked calmly and sat down.

Their voices rolled and intoned, echoing through the air.

Elrohir returned it easily, Bilbo only vaguely recognizing his name, or the names of the Company at some points.

He wondered if this was all for naught. If they would be going back, packing back up, and heading West once more, away from his Heart and Family.

Bilbo feels his breath catch a little as Dáin gave the proclamation and beat the gavel down on the edge of his chair. Before Bilbo can even write the question, he hears what seems to be joyous bells ringing and _singing_ through Erebor, causing Elrohir to look around in confusion as Thorin _leaps over the railing_ and runs up to Bilbo.

Bilbo let out a sound of shock, surprise, and pain as he was picked up and swung around, Thorin whispering what had to be praises in Khuzdul.

Oh, he was _staying_.

Bilbo is just barely starting to work on hugging him back when a rumble suddenly goes through the floor and everyone is thrown to it.

Thorin shifts as they fall and he takes the brunt of it, even as he is half sitting up only a moment later and barking orders.

What just _happened?_

* * *

 

"Mount Doom has erupted."


End file.
